So Near So Far (18 page)

The conference came to an end and its members dispersed, Lord Keith and other flag officers going to dine with the Governor of the Castle, less senior officers dining together at the Dover Stage Inn. With them was Mr Xenophon, as conspicuous as ever in wearing no uniform. Delancey found himself next to Captain Denham of the
Eagle,
who was inclined to ridicule the scale of military defence.

“What is droll to me, sir, is that Bonaparte has never understood the importance of our commerce. Success against us means, to him, his marching into London at the head of his army. But Lord St Vincent and his advisers have never been worried about that. Their fears have always been that the French would find means to intercept our East and West India convoys. London could be ruined without the entry of a French army. Fortunately for us, he never seems to have realised that we are more concerned about our trade than about his troops. I question myself whether our regiments here can serve any useful purpose.”

“I am much of your opinion, sir,” replied Delancey, “more
especially regarding Bonaparte's ignorance of where we are most vulnerable. But I think myself that our troops do more than add colour to the scene. Their strength will be known to Bonaparte and he is thus compelled to reinforce his Army of England. Granted that his men are veterans, he must have numbers at least equal to those that will oppose him. But each additional division or brigade makes his embarkation problem more difficult. His plan, so far as I understand it, is a staff officer's nightmare.”

“I must confess my ignorance of conjunct expeditions,” replied Denham. “Wherein is the special difficulty to which you refer?”

“Well, sir, our conjectures as to the French strength range from one hundred thousand, minimum, to one hundred fifty thousand. Whichever figure we accept, we know that such an army must have room to camp and room to exercise. I have made inquiries about the Duke of York's expedition to the Helder in 1799. I have even a note of the numbers and dates. He led thirty-five thousand men in all but where were they encamped? Not at Deal, not on the beach. Here at Dover? Impossible. All the accommodation and all the space is taken up by the garrison, by the men who are to stay here; and the same applies to Folkestone or Ramsgate. No, the bulk of the force was camped at Barham Downs, about twenty miles from Deal or two days' march. Embarkation began during the second week in August and the first division sailed on the 12th. The second division sailed on the 26th. The head of the third division reached Deal on 7 September—five thousand strong—and embarked on the 9th. The Earl of Chatham, Commander in Chief, sailed on the 10th and the last brigade did not embark until the 12th. Using the sheltered anchorage of the Downs,
employing ships as transports, and not mere rowing boats, and with the help of the Deal boatmen—probably the best boat-handlers in the world—it took Lord Chatham's staff about four weeks to embark thirty-five thousand men. You cannot have men drawn up on the beach for days. You cannot keep them for weeks on board transport ships at anchor. They must assemble where there is grass for the horses and room to exercise. But Bonaparte's problem is infinitely worse. Boulogne has some sort of shelter from the Bassure de Baas and there is a useful basin a mile up the river and another at Wimereux. But he has no proper transports and must rely on the flotilla of small craft. How long will it take him to collect one hundred fifty thousand men from the encampments up to thirty miles away? How long to embark them and how long before they can sail? At Lord Chatham's speed of embarkation it would take him over four months; four months free of bad weather and free from interference by us!”

“I beg leave to suggest, sir, that Bonaparte is an abler commander than Lord Chatham.”

“What—abler than our future Prime Minister's brother? Surely you cannot be serious? But even were Bonaparte four times as good—an almost seditious idea—his embarkation would still take four weeks of fine weather with the British taken completely by surprise. But what surprise is possible? Boulogne is the place and July is the month. No one at today's conference is going to expect the attempt to be made from Toulon in December.”

Before the dinner ended, or at least before the party dispersed, Delancey managed to have a word with Mr Xenophon. Inquiring further about the
Nautilus,
he asked whether anything had been heard about her or a similar craft at Le Havre.

”I
have
had a report about that,” admitted Mr Xenophon, “and have not known what to make of it. There can be no doubt that the
Nautilus
herself is at Brest and has been rejected. If there is another such device at Le Havre she must be another vessel, similar in design but possibly an improvement. With Fulton in England, any other such craft must be the work of someone else—probably someone who worked with him on
Nautilus.
Do you think that such a vessel poses a serious threat?”

“I don't know, Mr Xenophon, but I shouldn't dismiss it as fantastical. There are three ideas under current discussion: the steam-vessel, the boat which can travel under the water, and the explosive device used at sea. Each has certain possibilities but what would be really dangerous would be a combination of the three. I suggest, sir, that Le Havre should be watched with care. We need to know of any plot that is hatching there.”

R
EAR-ADMIRAL Knight's squadron was at anchor in the Downs when news came on 11 May that Addington had resigned and that William Pitt had formed a new government with the Duke of Portland, Lord Eldon, the Earl of Chatham, Canning, Huskisson, and Spencer Perceval. Replacing Lord St Vincent at the Admiralty was Lord Melville. News of the event reached Deal in a matter of minutes by telegraph, the semaphore system which had connected Deal with the Admiralty since 1796. If there was lingering any prejudice against Delancey at the highest level, it went with the removal of Troubridge and Markham. He had no claim on Lord Melville for any special favour but he could at least hope for a better frigate than the
Vengeance.
By reputation he was still the man who had destroyed the
Hercule,
a French ship of the line, and he might at least hope to be treated as well as anyone else. Knight signalled for all captains and gave them the news at once.

“Politics apart,” he concluded, “I think this a change for the better. Lord St Vincent is an excellent man, as we all recognise, but he was so intent on preventing corruption in the dockyards that he almost brought work to a standstill. Melville will wish to fight Bonaparte rather than the shipwrights and caulkers at Portsmouth and Chatham. He will also expect to see early results, the actions which will prove that a new energy is being
applied to the war. Facing the French invasion flotilla we shall be relied upon to harass it. It is for me to make a plan but I am open to consider proposals from any of my officers.” There was an awkward silence, broken at last by Captain Harding of the
Lizard,
the senior captain present.

“I must confess, Admiral, that I am somewhat at a loss. We might claim, I think, that we have done all that is possible. We have no means of forcing an entry into Boulogne harbour. Lord Nelson himself planned the attack in August 1801, achieving nothing but a heavy loss of life and the loss of Captain Parker. He also discovered, at great cost, that the enemy gunboats are secured by chains, not by ordinary cable. Few of us would hope to succeed where Lord Nelson failed and the French will have strengthened their defences since his attempt was made. We could bring bomb vessels to a point within range of their defending gunboats but their fire would be wildly inaccurate as it always is. My own view, Admiral, is that we should let them alone until they actually embark their troops for the invasion. Then we shall catch them at sea.”

“Delancey?” said the Admiral.

“Were the decision left to me,” replied Delancey, “I should agree with Captain Harding. Encourage them to attempt their invasion of England. Keep out of sight and allow them to think it the easiest task in the world. Then catch them in mid Channel! But that decision, which I believe to be correct, will not satisfy our Members of Parliament. They will ask their lordships of the Admiralty why nothing is being done and that same question will then be passed on to you, Admiral. What are we doing against the French flotilla? What do we plan to do? I submit, sir, that we cannot reply ‘Nothing.' As against that, I am utterly opposed to any plan which occasions a great loss of
life. We can sacrifice men in order to defeat the enemy. I would never incur losses in order to placate the ignorance of Parliament. My idea, sir, is to make noise enough to merit a column in the newspapers, give all the appearance of energy but take the least possible risk.”

“An admirable solution in principle, Delancey,” said Harding. “Perhaps you will now go into more detail?”

“Now, sir,” protested Delancey, “you must be fair. I have given you the broad outline. I had expected you to contribute the rest.”

“Be damned to you! What do you take me for? A confounded magician?”

“Well, Admiral, failing help from Captain Harding, I will add one further idea. The enemy defences can be penetrated in one way only; by the entry into their harbour of a vessel they recognise as one of their own.”

“Ah, your captured gunboat?” asked Knight.

“No, sir. By the entry first of all of another gunboat which my gunboat will have captured.”

“Well, let's have the rest of it.”

“I have not drawn up a plan in detail, sir. We were not told beforehand that our views would be invited.”

“That's true, I'll allow. Who else has an idea to put forward?”

There was a prolonged silence, the other captains looking embarrassed.

“Well, gentlemen,” said the Rear-Admiral at last, “I accept Delancey's plan in principle. We have to do something to give proof of our activity. It is not a cause in which we are justified in taking a great risk with our men's lives. It must rest, as a plan, on deception rather than mere force. With all that we agree. It remains to be seen whether Delancey can translate a
vague idea into a real plan of action. How long do you need, Delancey?”

“I can do it by tomorrow, sir, if I can do it at all.”

On the following day Delancey had an interview with the Admiral alone. He was now able to explain his plan at length.

“Boulogne is the centre of the French invasion effort and that, to my mind, is the place we must attack. There are gunboats which form a defensive line in front of the river mouth and these are covered in turn by coastal batteries. The town itself, on the right bank, is a mile up the river with the new basin facing it on the left bank. Boats specially built to form part of the invasion flotilla are crowded into the basin. Requisitioned fishing boats are moored in the river higher up. At regular intervals the gunboats in the new basin are taken to sea as an exercise, heading north or south so as to remain covered by the batteries. Should there be any threat of attack some movement of these boats is certain; they would move to meet a threatened landing. The chief danger they must provide against is that their gunboats may be fired upon by their own shore batteries. They provide against this by distinctive flags in daylight, by distinctive lights after dark. These arrangements are frequently changed. We know from past experience that any frontal attack on Boulogne will meet with fierce resistance.”

“Agreed, Delancey. All this is generally known.”

“So my first conclusion, sir, is that an actual raid, with the landing of troops—were we contemplating such a raid—would take place at Wimereux, three miles further north. There is another basin there for landing craft but it is nearer the sea, the defences are weaker and the shoreline to the south is sand rather than rock. A feint attack on Wimereux would be credible and the noise would be heard in Boulogne. I should myself
assume that a division of gunboats would emerge from Boulogne and sweep northwards to meet the apparent threat. All would have hoisted the appropriate recognition lights. Agreed, sir?”

“Yes, agreed.”

“When it becomes apparent that the raid on Wimereux has come to nothing—due, of course, to the skill and courage of the defending artillerymen—the division of gunboats will return to Boulogne.”

“No doubt.”

“The gunboats will be the same in number but we shall have intercepted the last one and added to the column another boat—a flat-bottomed craft now at Deal—and an ordinary French fishing boat, just such a craft as we have at anchor in Trinity Bay. Both will by then have hoisted the correct recognition lights. The flat-bottomed boat will enter the crowded basin, packed with explosives to be ignited by a half-hour fuse. The fishing boat will then take the boat's crew on board and make for the harbour mouth, escaping in the panic caused by the explosion.”

“And you think that such an explosion will destroy much of the flotilla by fire?”

“No, sir, I don't. The explosion vessel will have kegs of gunpowder underneath a top dressing of incendiary devices and hand grenades. It could do a great deal of damage but I doubt if many vessels would be actually destroyed. Its biggest effect would be on enemy morale. It would be, in effect, a slap in the face. If that can happen in their own fortified harbour, what might happen at sea? Our publicised account would be proportionately good for our own morale. It would look well in the newspapers.”

“I agree. I think, moreover, that your plan is a good one,
with the possibility of doing much damage at a minimum risk. I shall need permission from Lord Keith and I shall need two bomb-vessels for the dummy attack on Wimereux. You will need French-speaking volunteers—all seamen from the Channel Islands that you can collect. Now, as to command, I shall direct the feint attack on Wimereux, you will direct the raid on Boulogne. Who is to lead the raiding group?”