A slightly built and very fast moving seaman ran.
Thirty minutes later Murray arrived, moving from cover to cover, doorway to corner to patch of shade, very professionally. He slid round to the back of the cottages, called out in Greek, spoke for a couple of minutes before joining the seamen.
“Sergeant and four men got into the gatehouse there, through the back of the tavern – wide-awake, ran at the first hint there was something up. The rest are all dead. The Greeks say we can take their surrender if they’ll give it.”
Murray sidled to the corner of the cottage wall nearest the gate, shouted in French.
“I have told them I am an English officer and that they can come out empty-handed.”
The gate opened a few inches and a uniformed man poked his head out.
“Quickly. Vite!”
The five ran out, hands up, hid behind the seamen, not trusting the Greeks.
“I told the fishermen that we needed information, that we would take them out to the ship to put them to the question. They believe that we will torture them then kill them – it is what they would do. They have no use for prisoners, no place to keep them, no food to spare - not always enough for themselves in fact.”
They picked up Eeles' body, passed it to the prisoners to carry, made their way down to the quay.
Murray took the sergeant away from the others, spoke briefly to him, was greeted with a great flurry of nods and agreement.
“They are Italians, not French, and say they were forced to serve. They will swear to King George just as happily as to the French. They will swear anything, in fact, while we keep the Greek knives out of their throats.”
“Very good. Five landsmen, Mr Jakes, instruct the bo’sun to watch them. What does he say about the third village, Mr Murray?”
“One hundred men, sir, two small companies of infantry with their officers, apart from the one dead here, and, additionally, a battery of siege guns, old brass Italian pieces rather than modern French, but heavy, brought from Venice to hold a captured port. The sergeant says that his lieutenant told him they were to take a harbour down in Egypt somewhere – he did not have a name – but that the campaign there seems to be lost so they came north instead. They were going to land on Rhodes, but it seemed far too big and well-garrisoned so they came away and ended up here, needing to water.”
“What naval strength?”
“Five heavy frigates, Venetian ships, and one smaller, a post ship, I think. Four of sloops or brigs. Four stores and troopers. The sergeant is sure that four of the frigates and two of the lesser vessels have gone south, cruising, in company.”
“One heavy frigate and two of sloops, or a sloop and a post ship, remaining it would seem. Tied up to a quay then Trident and Active together should be able to attempt them. Forewarned and at sea might be difficult, because Sir Frederick believes the Venetian frigates to be fast sailors, possibly with the legs of Trident, certainly able to leave Active behind the fair.”
Murray enquired why this was so important if both sides wished to fight.
“Given even an hour or two to manoeuvre the faster ship will probably be able to seize the gage, Mr Murray, and that can be a decisive advantage in a single-ship action, which this would effectively be.”
Trident appeared offshore and Backham took Active out to join him, leaving the prize brig in port with a skeleton crew under his junior midshipman.
“I have but one commissioned officer, Sir Frederick, and he is incapable of performing the duties of a Premier. Indeed, sir, I am not sure that he is fit to act as Second!”
“And you have just two mids, and a single master’s mate, Mr Backham. You cannot sail as consort with a certain action pending in such case.”
Frederick thought for a few seconds, turned to Bosomtwi.
“Mr Lucas, Mr Davidson and Mr Kent to the cabin, please.”
Backham gave his thanks.
“Lucas to be First and Davidson has passed for lieutenant and can be made if needs be. Kent is young, sir?”
“He will be junior to your youngsters, and he shapes up like a fighter, Mr Backham. He is learning quickly and I am, in fact, very pleased with him – so this will give him a first opportunity to show what he is made of. Fox is too young still, and McGregor we know about, while Green might be senior to your lads, so Kent makes sense in more ways than one.”
Backham had never needed to think about the development of his juniors – he had trained as need arose, but he had never had to plan.
“That is a part of a captain’s job, is it not, sir? I had never thought of that.”
“A good captain, one who tries to serve the navy well, will bring on his people.”
Backham experienced a rare moment of insight as he realised that Sir Frederick was ‘bringing him on’ as a captain. He repeated his thanks.
“Mr Eeles, who succeeded you as First in the Active, is dead, Mr Lucas. You are ordered therefore to take his place, to return to the quarterdeck that many might describe as rightfully yours, sir. You will be accompanied by the two young gentlemen at your side.”
Lucas made acknowledgement of the order, though obviously surprised by it.
“Your prize will remain in company, Mr Backham, under your master's mate. Manning will be a major difficulty but you will be at liberty to invite Greek fishermen to join you and you are free to enlist, for example, members of the crew of French ships who are not themselves French nationals, or, of course, soldiers who might prefer not to become prisoners.”
Backham was at home with the problem of manning a ship – it had been a constant companion since his first days at sea. Any man with a full complement of limbs was fair game to be pressed in his mind, and they all became sailors when once brought offshore – they had no choice.
A short conference with Murray ensued and he was sent ashore to discover the leaders amongst the Greeks and invite them to join in an attack on the last, biggest harbour, Corinthos by name.
“I have heard of this place before, have I not, Mr Murray? Strange for a tiny fishing port.”
Murray explained, patiently and kindly, that the name was not an uncommon one, in the same way that there was more than one town of Newport in Britain.
“What can I offer them, sir?”
“The four field guns, with ammunition. Muskets as well, two for every man.”
Backham said he had already volunteered his pair of short four-pound cannonades, as he had replaced them with swivels in the boats.
“They will use them to equip two of their boats as pirates, sir.”
“Tell them, then, to wait until we are out of sight – I would much prefer not to know of such an eventuality.”
Murray returned in mid-morning, accompanied by three fishermen - shortish, swarthy, middle-aged gentlemen decorated by immense grey moustaches. All wore non-descript trousers and vests and waistcoats that had once been much embroidered. They had pistols and knives thrust through sashes at their waists; they looked, probably intentionally, absolutely villainous.
“They would rather like to see the cannon for themselves, Sir Frederick, tending not to trust promises made by foreigners.”
There was an explosion of Greek and a pointing finger. Murray spoke very quickly, persuaded them to put their pistols away.
“They are not acquainted with Indian monkeys, sir, and have been informed by their priests that foreigners are not uncommonly accompanied by familiar demons. I have explained and they think I am lying, but are willing to accept their presence so as not to cause offence.”
Frederick called to Merritt, had the Greeks taken across to the polacca to inspect its cargo while Backham put the cannonades into his launch and conveyed them to the quayside.
“Inform the gentlemen that it will take time to roust out their shot from the magazine, but that it will be done today, Mr Murray.”
“They will undoubtedly set their masons to chip and polish stone shot to the appropriate calibre, sir, being unwilling to waste s
o much iron if they can avoid it. What is the plan for Corinthos, sir?”
“Sail tonight with every man they have and land them as close to the port as possible. At the same time the Trident’s marines will land and discover the battery, taking it at first light and then proceeding to the barracks to assist the Greeks. Trident and Active will enter harbour and sink, take or burn all shipping as necessary. Prisoners are to be taken, especially those who are not French citizens, because we need men to work our ships.”
Murray said they were familiar with the concept of galley slaves, would have no problem with prisoners in such circumstances.
“What will follow, sir?”
“Trident will base herself on Corinthos for the short term, Mr Murray, manning the harbour battery as well. When Trident cruises I shall leave Mr Backham and Active and all prizes, Mr Backham acting as governor pro tem. The Turks will come back sooner or later and I believe that any local man who was in command would lose his head very rapidly. We, of course, have expelled the invaders and are doing no more than maintain order pending the return of our Ottoman friends.”
“That will work diplomatically, sir, the Turks will accept it. The Greeks will be unhappy, and those found under arms will be dead, I have no doubt.”
“Mr Backham will have leave to embark men and their families if they wish to enter under British protection. They can be taken to Malta in the first instance, the men accepting service in the navy.”
“Ruthless, but necessary, sir. Am I to stay with Mr Backham, sir?”
“Not if we can find some other interpreter for him – I need your advice and knowledge, Mr Murray. That’s a point – knowledge! Do you have anything to tell me about this man Eeles? He is a puzzle – an admiral’s favourite who suddenly appeared as Premier in a small and insignificant sloop in an out of the way location.”
“I noticed that myself, sir,” Murray answered, very smugly. “I made enquiries about him. He is related to the Parkers, who number more than one admiral, as you will be aware, sir, and was brought on in the service in what seems to be a not unusual fashion, but caused some stir in Port Mahon, being discovered in the arms of the wife of a general there. The general had the ear of the admiral, and much influence in London, and young Mr Eeles was shipped out at speed, told to make his own way for six months. When all had blown over he was to be promoted and to be brought back to Home Waters where he would soon become a post-captain in charge of Sea Fencibles or some such, never to venture overseas again and comfortably circumstanced before he was twenty-five.”
“The Parkers have influence, do they not?”
“Politically and in the service, yes, sir.”
“Bugger!”
There was nothing to be done about it, but it created another set of, at best, unfriendly voices in London.
The fishermen put together a few more than a hundred men, each with new musket and old, and sharp, knife.
The Trident told off her landing party of eighty seamen and three dozens of marines.
“Fewer than two hundred and fifty, Mr Merritt, to attack a fortified harbour with more than one hundred defenders. If they are asleep, well and good. If they are alert, not quite so easy. We have no hard word on what is in port – but expect a single forty gun frigate, twenty-fours on the broadside, and one or two of smaller craft, six or nine-pounders most likely.”
“Interesting, sir. Might I suggest that we should load, double-shotted, both broadsides while we have daylight and time. After all, sir, as one of my old captains was used to say, ‘blessed is he who shoots first, and twice-blessed if he aims well.”
“And thrice if he is double-shotted, one presumes, Mr Merritt.”
Archbold led the seamen ashore in the last of the moon, the marines following, being better able to function in the dark. The fishermen provided them with guides, leading the men in single file, right hand carrying musket, left clasping the shoulder in front of them.
The battery, being a temporary measure, was located quite low, overlooking the harbour mouth, six large guns behind drystone walls, recently constructed and more for disguise than protection. The magazine was well behind the guns, sheltered by an outcropping of limestone; the powder monkeys would have the better part of a hundred yards to run with each charge, slowing the rate of fire in any major engagement.
“If they intended it to be permanent then they would have built further up the slope of the mountain,” Archbold whispered to McGregor, at his side as runner. “They probably hope to take the guns with them when they finally abandon the harbour – confirming Mr Murray’s argument that they are not intending conquest.”
“What do they intend, sir?”
“Christ knows!”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Quinlan led his marines into position, his ensign obedient at his shoulder and Sergeant Benson anxiously scurrying to place the platoons behind the three guns furthest to the left.
“A volley and charge, I think, Mr Archbold.”
Archbold had overall command, at Frederick’s strict order.
“No volley, Mr Quinlan! If at all possible we are to maintain silence until our allies are in position at the barracks. Have you located the gun crews, sir?”
Quinlan had not thought that far, but proudly pointed out the four sentries around a small brazier by the right-most gun.
“How many at the magazine?”
Quinlan had not considered that the magazine, with its tons of powder, would certainly be guarded.
McGregor spoke up, very quietly.
“Mr Ablett says there are three, two asleep, one walking post, sir. He will take them with Jean and Marc, sir, as soon as you give the word.”
“Tell him now, Mr McGregor.”
The midshipman ran, returned five minutes later, swallowing and choking back the bile before he spoke.
“All three dead, sir. Jean and Marc just twisted their necks, sir, like chickens! Mr Ablett saw to the other one, but he was too far off to see exactly what he did.”
The massively powerful ex-slaves were obviously capable of doing just what the boy said, their huge hands able to straighten a horseshoe when they were playing, showing off for the crew.
“Where are the gunners, have we placed them?”
There was no encampment, no group of huts or tents nearby. Archbold was forced to assume that they slept the nights in their barracks, standing to at dawn probably, ready to open fire on any attacker arriving out of the darkness.
“That is a nuisance! They will have to be here to greet the dawn, must come up before the sun. Mr Quinlan, secure all of the guns to my word. Mr Fox, take your men and silence the sentries, now.”
Fox had no idea how to obey the command, but he had learned what to do; he turned to his leading seaman. “Carry on, Mayhew!”
Fox trotted at the seaman’s side, watching as his eight men split into pairs, scurrying barefoot through the night.
“Four men, sir. All done for.”
Mayhew’s report came two minutes later.
One man to grab, a cloth of some sort muffling the sentry’s mouth, while the second used his knife. Fox knew how it was done now, another of the many skills of his trade mastered.
“Thank you, Mayhew.”
He never neglected the basic courtesies, well-trained by his mother – and his seamen much appreciated the fact, they liked good manners and officers who remembered them.
Quinlan reported the guns to be held, waited for orders.
“We do not have gunners with us, and have no instructions to use the guns – they are very big, would sink any small ship and we do not want that. Besides that, if we turned them on the harbour we would probably destroy half of the town. Leave a corporal and his platoon to hold the magazine and the path to the battery. Bring the remainder with you, holding to the left of the roadway. The seamen will keep to the right and half a cable to your front. We will hope to reach the barracks before the gunners march up to take post – they are soldiers and wil
l do things to order, I expect. Six guns, eight men at least apiece, and a powder monkey, and reliefs for the sentries. Officers besides – more than sixty men. If we meet them on the road then we will let them past, then a volley from behind them – you will attack them from the front and should be able to take their surrender, your men being trained infantry.”
Quinlan was sure they could do that, rather looked forward to it, in fact – he had never been in a land battle, it would be something new.
They had nearly half a mile to march downhill and round the bay to reach the houses on the outskirts that had been taken over by the French as their barracks. Firing started before they reached them.
McGregor came running from the point of their small column.
“We can see a small sort of parade ground, sir, the road and garden land between four of the little houses, sir. It looks as if the French had told off a party and were about to march up to the battery when the Greeks opened fire, sir. There’s shooting from the windows of the houses, and from the parade ground where they’ve formed a square, sir. The Greeks have got them surrounded, sir, and it looks as if some have come up from the town to join in, sir.”
“Call Mr Quinlan up.”
“Yes, sir. Mr Ablett has taken Marc and Jean and the rest of his party forward, sir. He said that as soon as it grew light enough to take aim they would do what they could, sir.”
There was a sudden fusillade, rapid fire from the heavy rifles, their deeper note distinctive.
“I expect that’s broken the square on the parade ground, sir – they would make an easy target for them.”
“Trident in the offing, sir.”
Archbold realised that it was almost full daylight, he could see across the harbour – the almost empty stretch of water.
“One sloop and two French storeships, busy running up their colours. No frigate. No taken prizes either – so that idea is wrong as well.”
The master had surmised that the French might have captured a number of vessels needing repair before they could be escorted to Venice or Toulon. It would have given a good reason for taking the harbour.
Fortune And Glory (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 5) Page 6
