Authors: David Donachie
Pearce was last into the cutter, now manned by eight rowers and ten more tars, enough it was felt to take on any unexpected enemies and check them so they could make an escape, a fact which did not escape the glowers of the marine lieutenant.
The other worry was a pursuit by something under sail, but Pearce reasoned any such vessel had to be inside the bay and would need to get out through the narrows before they could mount a chase. If they did that was when he would employ the swivel gun.
The time came to switch the oarsmen and also to slow their rate and weight of stroke, for anything too heavy threw up high spouts of displaced seawater. When the sky clouded over enough to hide the stars, leaving him with the tin strip of luminosity at the edge of the clouds, he called for the oars to be shipped; the shoreline was low lying and relatively short on vegetation and he wanted to see where he would touch bottom for it needed to be sandy not rocky.
The first hint of light began to tinge the eastern clouds right in front of Pearce; they had cut it very fine and still he could not see a line where wavelets were coming ashore so it was time to abjure caution; nothing could be worse than to be out at sea in daylight.
‘Haul away, lads, let’s get our feet on dry land. Michael man that swivel and if you hear a sound let fly at it.’
The speed picked up and at last Pearce saw that for which he was searching and it was close, for he could hear the tell-tale lapping of water on sand, thankfully not the hiss of rocks or pebbles. It seemed no time at all until the bottom touched at which point every man jack leapt out of the cutter to first lighten it then to haul it further inshore where the swivel gun was lifted off its temporary mounting.
Getting up the beach was hard going even if it was a shallow rise and soon they and their craft were in some low bushes, where they could find concealment. There they stayed while the light in the sky slowly increased until it became full daylight. Now Pearce could see about him and reckon on his luck for in easy sight lay the rear of a fortified bastion which, covering the narrows, had to have cannon.
A slight change of direction might have had then run ashore beneath the guns. Somehow he would have to find
out the number of cannon and their weight of shot for that was the route of entry and exit for
Flirt
. Also was it only one side fortified, or both?
Raising his head he looked into the gulf, surprised to see four pairs of high masts, two close and two further off. Extra elevation was risky but had to be tried and that showed him two deep-hulled merchant vessels bearing the scars of a fight and even if he had never before called eyes on them he knew them to be those that had sailed in company with the
Lady Massingham
.
What made him so certain was the sight of the two other vessels riding at anchor on the far side of the anchorage, a pair of brigantines with lines too familiar to cheer his mood even at a distance. Michael had joined him and he was looking with the same sense of astonishment.
‘I think we now know who that fellow we came across escaped from, Michael, just as we know now and for certain that Mehmet Pasha’s true game is piracy.’
‘Can’t see proper John-boy, but what is that hanging from the yards of them merchantmen?’
Pearce swung his small telescope to where Michael was pointing and what he observed brought from him a gasp of breath. ‘They’re bodies, Michael. I reckon them two of the men of those captures, one for each, and they have been hung.’
‘Holy Christ,’ Michael swore, before crossing himself.
For John Pearce the day was spent crawling through undergrowth, which covered the narrow spit of land that formed the southern arc of the bay, to get to points were he could get sight of those things he needed to record, in this accompanied by Rufus Dommet who had the slimmest frame and the least weight of the Pelicans. There was no need to say that Michael O’Hagan was left in charge of the others; no one would argue with him. If he found a convenient spot he would rest his back against a thick bush and, alternating the use of his telescope with a piece of charcoal, sketch away.
By midday he had a drawing of the far from formidable fortress and the buildings that surrounded it, many too close to aid in defence, quite the reverse, which implied it was no longer expected to withstand an assault and had become a place of administration: probably had any cannon stripped out. Not far off from the walls, across an open square, lay a small harbour, containing mostly small inshore fishing boats
though there was one bigger vessel that looked like a barge.
From every angle those two swinging bodies were in sight, moving on the slight motion of the ship, as were the brigantines that he was wont to think had been built to haunt him. There was more activity on the pirate vessels, the normal duties on a ship at anchor, with practically none at all on those two merchantmen. Where were the crew; ashore in Mehmet’s dungeon or secure below decks and why hang two of them?
The hardest to observe were the two round stone bastions on either side of the entrance to the gulf with cannon that covered the anchorage, presumably the same weight of shot as those pointing out to sea and covered the narrows. He had to assume a deep water channel running down the centre of those narrows but there was no way of telling if it actually lay to north or south of the middle, which was not a positive. If Digby did enter the gulf, and Pearce would be advising against it, running aground would lead to utter destruction.
Tired and dusty, Pearce entertained a solution that horrified Rufus. He began to strip down to his smalls, preparatory to swimming out to a point where he could observe both batteries and the muzzles of their inward-facing cannon, to try and guess at their calibre, for it could not be more than that.
‘What if they spot your head in the water?’
‘We have not seen a soul on this bank, not even a fisherman and those ships are too far off to allow anyone to spot me from the deck.
‘And if they have eyes aloft.’
‘The only ones I can see,’ Pearce snapped, ‘are dead.’
Rufus being still unhappy he had to be told that should the alarm be raised, he was to race back to the rest of the crew, hidden with the cutter and get it out to sea. ‘And take these sketches with you.’
It was necessary to slither down the rough sand to get into the water which, at this time of year, December, was far from warm as he made his way out from the shore to a point where he could observe the shore embrasures of both bastions. He knew he was taking a risk, but those cannon lay at the heart of the defence of Mehmet’s gulf, a place in which he clearly felt secure and with good reason; short of a ship of the line blasting those batteries to pieces, nothing could get in that he did not want to and then there was the getting out. Thankfully there was even less activity around the cannon that on the anchored ships.
Next he lay on his back to float and fixed his eyes on a point on shore, the flagstaff that bore the Crescent and Star of the Ottoman Empire, aware of movement towards the gulf entrance; there was a current and a noticeable one flowing outwards, no doubt fed by rivers from the surrounding mountains, which would act to slow any vessel seeking entry. That established, he very gently made his way back to the point where Rufus Dommet was waiting. If it was a cool figure who came back to shore it was one covered in sticky sand by the time he rejoined Rufus; he had to slide uphill. Once he was handed his coat he extracted his watch to check the time, not that it was utterly necessary, the state of the light told him it was time to get ready to depart, especially since he had a long crawl back.
The two had just begun that when a series of screams rent the air, not loud for it was too far off to be that, but
echoing. Pearce stopped and trained his telescope on where it came from, one of the French merchantmen. The knot of bodies soon filled his glass, several turbaned men dragging another across the deck, a sailor by his garb, where they put a rope around his neck, before turning to face the fortress.
A swing of the telescope showed a substantial figure of a man on the battlements and he too had a similar instrument, albeit much larger than that Pearce held and it was fixed on that merchant ship’s deck. Around his large frame were what seemed like some kind of court and examining him Pearce could see his clothing shimmered even in the lack of sunlight, which had him think the garments would be lavish and costly.
The portly fellow, and he was well larded, lifted his hand and Pearce swung his glass to see the poor soul who had been struggling to get free hauled up off the deck to kick and jerk as the life was squeezed out of him by slow strangulation. Sighting back to the man who had waved it was obvious he was laughing as he turned to address his companions, several of whom bowed.
‘Mehmet Pasha, I’ll wager and that’s what Hotham had in mind for me.’
‘Poor bastard,’ Rufus said, for if he had not the power of a telescope he had eyes to see the final death throes of the hanged sailor, the last feeble kicks of those legs.
Pearce was still examining the man who had caused this, probably for mere entertainment and it seemed he had seen his fill, for he turned and walked out of sight, once more with bows to mark his passing. Then, with shudder, he resumed his slow and careful progress.
They got the cutter into the water as soon as darkness
fell and with just enough light for Pearce to see the pointer on his compass, that allowing him to set a course. Rowing into what seemed an endless nothingness induces a strange feeling of embarking on a journey with no end and given it took several hours before they saw a winking lantern it was not without concern; if they did not meet with HMS
Flirt
they would be in a bad place.
Closing fast as the sky began to lighten again, the sails made dun coloured by wind, water and the sun rose high above them and voices called out to bring them to the gangway, where they disembarked to slaps on the back from their mates, Pearce last out, his hand aided by Michael O’Hagan, issued a quick request.
‘A bucket, Michael, if you please, over the side and filled. Rufus take care of this sketchbook.’
‘Mr Pearce, John, I bid you a happy return and am eager to hear what you have observed.’
‘There is scarce enough light to see, sir, but I must tell you my body is covered in sand which renders me unfit for anything.’
That said and his pistols and sword handed to Charlie Taverner, he began to undress which got many a chuckle from the crew, who fully expected him to do what they had seen the man do before, which was to dive naked into the sea.
‘Please feel free to get under way, Henry and when I am clean and in decent clothing I will join you in your cabin.’
Finally disrobed Pearce allowed O’Hagan to douse him in seawater several times until every trace of sand, which had driven him mad with itching for hours, was removed from his body.
Grey had been invited to attend on the two sea officers as it was held by Digby that being a Lobster his opinion should be sought on anything that might involve fighting on land: not that there was as yet a plan. What was obvious to the meanest intelligence was the plain fact that if those two redoubts at the entrance remained functional then any thought of doing what Digby had suggested was doomed.
‘You only have so many men, Mr Grey, too few to subdue a pair of stout bastions.’
‘The trick, captain would be to subdue one and turn the guns on to the other.’
‘Simple to say, not easy to accomplish.’
Grey looked at Pearce as if he had just blasphemed, which reminded him of the odd situation in which he found himself. Normally the man thirsting for action he was trying to dampen the aims of another he knew to be desperate. Digby had to do something; he could not just admit failure and then face the consequences or the man who had sent him, an admiral he could not touch.
‘You say the batteries are not heavily manned, sir.’
‘Not that I could see. They anticipate no threat from the sea that would not be obvious for some time before it could get within range.’
‘And there were no torches lit last night.’
‘No, for we would not have landed so close is we had seen them.’
‘Lax, Mr Pearce, wouldn’t you say?’ Grey replied with a quizzical look.
‘Only if the force they are required to deal with is overwhelming. Besides that the cannon are set in embrasures which and I assume most of them point out to sea.’
‘Even stout walls will not withstand the blast of a thirty-two pounder at close quarters.’
‘The size is only a guess.’
‘No matter.’
‘Henry, you are proposing to sail into that gulf with those cannon manned, when you do not even know if they will respect your truce flag. Once inside you are going to open fire on Mehmet’s old fort and then seek to get back out again, relying on Mr Grey and his Lobsters to have neutralised the cannon and this when you cannot be sure of a safe channel.’
Digby was looking at the top of his desk and when he lifted his eyes there was a real sense of doom in them. ‘John, it pains me to say this, but if you want no part of what I must do then I will need to find a way to get you ashore somewhere safe, a place from which you can make your way …’ the pause was long, ‘to Naples.’
‘You are so determined on this you will risk destruction.’
‘I cannot see another way.’
‘There are two well-armed brigantines in the anchorage …’
‘Vessels
Flirt
can fight!’
‘One perhaps for you are much better armed, two is another matter and whatever course you adopt might I remind you it is not only your own life you are risking.’
‘I had expected more support.’
‘I will support you in anything that can be achieved but not an approach that smacks of madness driven by despair. To take this brig into that anchorage is suicide. I also doubt if the crew were told of your aim they would follow you.’
Pearce paused and rubbed his temples, watched in silence by the others. ‘But?’
‘Yes,’ Digby asked, his desperation undiminished.
‘In search of a rich prize …’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘What if we went in but
Flirt
did not?’
‘To what purpose?’
‘To cut out those two French merchantmen.’
‘Now I think you as mad as you are claiming me to be.’
‘No. We got ashore in the darkness and I can assure you if we struggled to get the cutter off the beach we managed and the slope on the inshore side was of the same incline. The cutter is our largest boat and we have two more that we can get into the water with enough men to get aboard the cargo ships and cut their cables.’
‘They must be guarded.’
‘Against what? The only threat they face are the crew they must be holding as prisoners, whom our friend Mehmet seems intent in stringing up for entertainment. There is no threat from outside the gulf for they do not know we are in the offing. You were probably too far out to even be spotted by fishermen.’
‘You reckon we could surprise them?’
‘I doubt they are as sharp as they should be and what backs that up? There was no sign of those sentinels I was so concerned about. Mehmet and his men have allowed complacency to replace watchfulness, for they cannot see where any threat could come from by which they would not be well warned.’
‘We have no idea of numbers.’
‘If I can get aboard with the same number I took in the cutter I will wager it will be Mehmet’s men who will be well outnumbered. Mr Grey if you can do as you have suggested
then you would have to subdue both batteries so we could sail those merchantmen out, but I must add they are made of more robust timber than our brig and could probably withstand a bit of a pounding.’
‘And if we fail to cut them out, John, and are required to flee?’
‘Then as long as our marines control one battery we row out right under their guns, for in that case depth of keel is of not account.’
‘That still does not solve a certain problem.’ The sideways glace at Grey was enough; he had not been appraised of Hotham’s treachery. ‘And that to me is central.’
‘Henry, I have had a long an exhausting day and it is now the middle of the night. I beg you for some sleep and while I am doing that if you wish to cogitate further on alternatives then who am I to stop you?’
‘I too am in need of sleep,’ Digby said, taking the solution offered. ‘Mr Grey, you too have been up for too long.’
‘And the watch?’
‘You trusted this crew, John, I am content to do likewise until Mr Dorling comes on duty. We are set on a circular course so let us leave it that way. If anything untoward occurs let them call our attention to it.’
No amount of cogitating could keep John Pearce awake but he did dream and they were not all of a happy hue so when he awoke he was far from refreshed. There was a way to alleviate that and once up he went on deck, disrobed and dived naked over the side to stroke hard in the water, a mixture of warm currents and others of icy but invigorating chill. Whatever they were an aid to clarity.
Back aboard, dry and refreshed, he could face Henry
Digby, who looked as though he had not slept a wink. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks drawn, without much in the way of colour and he was given to rubbing his face hard as Pearce began to talk.
‘The problem.’ A nod. ‘You approached the Gulf of Ambracia and took a precautionary look in without trying the narrows to find two merchant vessels you thought had been taken illegally in the anchorage, these espied from the tops of HMS
Flirt
. I know you not to be averse to going aloft personally.’