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  This did not save her, however, from routine work in trade protection. News came of the Guillaume Tell’s capture while attempting to escape, followed by the capture of the Diane, frigate, also out of Valletta. It was evident in August that the fortress was about to fall and it was late in that month that Delancey was ordered back to Malta, escorting some victuallers which would feed the prisoners after their capitulation.

  At the last moment Delancey was ordered to give a passage to a Captain Laurence Savage, ranking commander but about to be posted. He had recently come from Malta and was able to give Delancey the news. It also transpired that he was a Guernseyman from St Sampson’s, Le Sauvage being the original version of his surname. He dined at Delancey’s table soon after the Merlin sailed from Palermo. He was short, burly, grey-haired, with a scarred face and a slight limp. Congratulating him on his coming promotion, Delancey asked him what ship he was to command.

  “A 64-gun ship called Athénien, which belonged to the Knights of Malta and is now at Valletta. After the fortress falls and provided the French haven’t burnt her for firewood—after she has been repaired, moreover—I am to sail her to England.” He heaved a long sigh, closed his eyes and opened them again and said with tired satisfaction, “Then I shall go ashore and stay there.”

  “Why not remain in the service, sir, and see your flag hoisted?”

  “Me? I’m too old for that, spent too many years as a lieutenant. I should be Rear-Admiral at the age of ninety. No, I’m fifty-six and have been at sea for forty-three years. I’ve battled the watch for long enough and it’s time to quit. The time comes when you can’t climb the rigging, can’t see the signal and don’t hear the breakers on the reef. It’s time then to drop anchor in a country cottage and grow cabbages. Still, I am grateful to Sir James Saumarez, who brought me into the service and to whom I owe this final promotion. As a Guernseyman, you will have met him, I expect?”

  “No, sir. I know him only by reputation. He is Guernsey’s hero, of course.”

  “A fine seaman is Sir James. He fought at St Vincent and the Nile and must be near the top of the captain’s list. He doesn’t make friends too easily, though.”

  “A contrast to Lord Nelson?”

  “He could hardly be more so. Nelson is all emotion and pathos, now sorry for himself and now angry with Lord Keith for being born a dozen years earlier and commissioned seven years sooner. Nelson can be childish at times, as in wanting to capture the French ships which escaped him at the Nile. The Généreux was not important in herself but he wanted her to make his victory more complete—yes, and wanted to make the capture in person. Once she was taken he pleaded sickness and went off home. But don’t mistake me about Nelson. He has no equal in battle. His weakness is in wanting to be liked, honoured and recognised, as also in being sulky when asked to take second place.”

  “He is popular with the seamen, I believe.”

  “Nobody could be more popular but his fleet was one which St Vincent and Keith had disciplined. Sir James is very different, as you’ll find for yourself some day. He always shows interest in anyone from Guernsey.”

  Thinking about this conversation afterwards, Delancey reflected that Sir James Saumarez’s patronage had done little to hasten Savage’s promotion. Was that because Saumarez would admit no favourites and had no followers? Or was it because Savage had been too outspoken? He was now on the point of retirement but Delancey suspected that he had been incautious all along. To speak as he had done of Lord Nelson was taking a risk. If Lord Nelson’s preference for another man’s wife were as notorious as his neglect of his own, the wise officer was one who knew nothing about it.

  So far as patronage went, Delancey was barely known to Lord Keith and to Troubridge. Lord Nelson he had not so much as seen and to other rising men like Sir John Borlase Warren or Sir Edward Pellew he was not even known by name. If Saumarez came to the Mediterranean it might make some difference to his prospects. There was no certainty of patronage from that quarter, he told himself, but it represented his best chance. He could certainly expect no help from anyone else.

  Soon afterwards the Merlin entered Grand Harbour, Valletta, and Delancey found himself in one of the finest harbours in the world, a pattern of deep-water creeks flanked by jetties and warehouses, sheltered by high ground and protected by towering honey-coloured ramparts and bastions. “It looks like the towers of Babylon!” he said to Savage. “Just think of this as a naval base,” he went on, “midway between the western and eastern halves of the Mediterranean, impregnable, secure, and ours for as long as we have a navy.”

  “The fortress is breath-taking,” Savage agreed. This impression was strengthened when they went ashore to call on the Governor at St Anton Palace. They were astonished to see the depth of the moat, cut deep into the solid rock. Seen close at hand, the defensive works were tremendous. Captain Ball received them cordially and had a kind word to say about the part played by the Merlin in frustrating the last French attempt to relieve Valletta. “When that failed,” he said, “General Vaubois knew that the end had come.”

  Delancey and Savage dismissed their carriage in Valletta and walked through the city, passing the Opera House, with its fine classical columns and pediment, and finally emerging from the main gate. Looking again into the moat, Savage exclaimed: “You could lose a church in that ditch and never know where it had gone.” They walked on through Floriana; in concept at least, the finest shopping street in Europe, lined on either side with a superb colonnade. Then they went down to the quayside where their boat was waiting.

  “Now to find the Athénien!” said Delancey. They eventually found her in Kalkara creek, a fine ship but in great need of repair. After going round her decks, Savage expressed his relief: “She is in fairly good shape, after all. She will be able to reach England under her own sails. I shall reach post-rank yet!” Delancey left his friend on board and was rowed back to the Merlin. He had found in Savage a man he could like and respect.

  For the rest of the year 1800 the Merlin was based on Malta, employed in routine duties and commerce protection. At one stage Delancey had parties of men working on board the Athénien, which had to be rigged for sea. This work was finished early in 1801 and Savage invited Delancey to dinner on the day before the Athénien was to sail.

  “Welcome aboard! Have you heard the news?”

  “That Spain has declared war?”

  “Yes, and Bonaparte is to buy six Spanish sail of the line, now at Cadiz.”

  “So with his three French ships at Toulon—”

  “And six more ships under the Spanish flag—”

  “He will have a fleet again, and one big enough to attempt the rescue of his army marooned in Egypt!”

  “So it is a question of whether Portugal can remain our ally, withstanding Spanish pressure. If not, we have lost the use of the harbour at Lisbon.”

  “Altogether, then,” Delancey concluded, “the balance of power in the Mediterranean is tilting again in Bonaparte’s favour. Thank God we have Valletta! He won’t recover that in a hurry. There could, however, be another siege of Gibraltar, and it mayn’t be too safe a passage for the Athénien. “

  “I shall make it, never fear! And now you must meet my other guests.”

  It was a convivial party but with all the talk about the new situation. The British had not lost control of the Mediterranean but the likelihood was that they would have to fight for it again. Among naval officers, and even to some extent on the lower deck, the prospect was more attractive than otherwise. There was every likelihood of action but the centre of interest was moving westwards towards the Strait of Gibraltar.

  It became known in May that the French ships at Toulon were fitting for sea and had been placed under the command of Rear-Admiral Durand Linois. Secret agents added the intelligence that Linois was to sail for Cadiz in June. Senior naval officer at Malta was then Rear-Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren, who decided to send this news at once to Gibraltar. Delancey was sent for on board th
e Renown and was given his orders by the Rear-Admiral’s flag-lieutenant. The Admiral he did not see but his outer office was a scene of almost frantic activity, with orders being written and messages dispatched and received.

  “The Admiral has an urgent dispatch for the senior naval officer at Gibraltar. Is the Merlin ready to sail at once?”

  “I can sail tomorrow morning.”

  “Very well, then. Here is the dispatch, sir. You will realise that the situation is changing rapidly and that you will have to keep a sharp look-out for the Spanish as well as the French, more especially as you approach the Straits. We suppose that Linois is still at Toulon but plans could have changed and he might be already at sea. As against that, the Spanish ships at Cadiz could have been ordered to Toulon, in which case you might sight them.”

  “I shall bear that possibility in mind.”

  “Sir John supposes that a flag-officer will be on his way to Gibraltar and should be there before you. In a postscript to his dispatch, Sir John authorises that officer, whoever he may be, to retain the Merlin with his flag, at least for the time being. He feels that the flag-officer in question may have dispatches for England and no other sloop at his disposal.”

  “That is fully understood.”

  “I should perhaps tell you, sir, in confidence, that Sir John had meant to entrust this dispatch to Captain Lord Cochrane of the Speedy, but that sloop has not returned and is indeed some weeks overdue.”

  “Let us hope she has not been taken.”

  “The Admiral would not be heartbroken if she were. The trouble we have had with Lord Cochrane is past my powers of description. His exploits may be dramatic but he is never there when wanted. When he is present we soon wish that he weren’t. Earlier this year his lordship attended a ball in Valletta, organised by French royalists, and ended by fighting a duel with one of them.”

  “He makes a lot of prize-money, I have been told.”

  “He does, indeed, sir. He is chasing enemy shipping when under orders to protect our own. That is what he will be doing now and that is why you will have to take his place.”

  “Don’t grieve too much on my account. I think that Gibraltar may be the scene of action in the near future and I would rather be there than here. I shan’t waste time, I promise you, in the pursuit of Spanish coasters. In return for that undertaking, you might tell me which Admiral I am likely to find there.”

  “We have no means of knowing, sir. The change in the situation must compel their lordships to send a squadron to Gibraltar. The flag-officer selected will not be one of those on the station but one chosen for this particular service.”

  “So you have no idea which officer is likely to be chosen?”

  “No, sir. Considering the strength of the squadron which will be needed and listing the senior officers likely to be available, Sir John made a guess but it is no more than that.”

  “And whom did he think would be chosen?”

  “Sir James Saumarez.”

  Chapter Six

  RAID ON MAJORCA

  “I SHOULD esteem it a personal favour,” said Colonel Windham, the Acting Governor of Minorca, “if you would afford protection to the Venturer of Whitehaven.” Delancey had noticed the ship in harbour but her importance had not been obvious. His passage from Malta had been uneventful and his dispatch for Minorca had been delivered. It looked now as if his further voyage was to be complicated by the need to escort a merchantman. It was an unwelcome prospect but he made no immediate comment. He merely looked inquiringly at the Colonel, who realised that some further explanation was wanted.

  “She will carry the mails and, what is more to the point, a quantity of military stores. Her safe arrival is a matter of some consequence.”

  Delancey would have liked to ask “To whom?”—suspecting as he did that the Colonel had a personal interest in the Venturer, but decided against being too inquisitive. It was none of his business and the request, in itself, was perfectly reasonable. He had brought a small convoy from Malta and had hoped to sail for Gibraltar without any such encumbrance. He now resigned himself to the inevitable.

  “Very well, Colonel. I’ll see to it that the Venturer arrives safely.” Relieved on this point, the Acting Governor began to look on Delancey with more favour.

  “That’s most kind of you, captain. I’m vastly obliged, I am indeed. A merchantman to escort is a confounded nuisance, as I fully realise, limiting your freedom of action. But I have some intelligence which may interest you. It has come to my knowledge that some Spanish coasters have put into Pollensa Bay at the east end of Majorca. Why don’t you cut them out before that fellow Cochrane forestalls you?”

  “With the Venturer in convoy?”

  “Oh, I can arrange that. I have reason to believe that one of these craft has on board some deserters from the garrison. I shall request you, in writing, to take them into custody.”

  “And bring them back to Minorca?”

  “Yes, but the chances are against your finding them.”

  “But what news do you actually have?”

  “None at all. They deserted, five of them, and are no longer in this island. I must presume that they left in some coasting vessel; of just such a type as those reported in Pollensa Bay. They may well be aboard one of them. Nothing, in fact, could be more probable. I shall act on that assumption.”

  “And they might, of course, be killed while resisting capture?”

  “Nothing could be more likely. Dine with me tomorrow and we can settle the details over a glass of port. I shall also invite the master of the Venturer, quite a decent fellow but rather lacking in experience. And, er, there is one other thing . . .” He hesitated a little with just a hint of embarrassment. “I have staying with me an elderly Oxford don, the Reverend Doctor Daniel Rathbone. Could you oblige him with a passage to Gibraltar? He could sail in the Venturer, of course, but he was tutor, it seems, to the present Lord Chancellor and came here with a whole sheaf of introductions, one even from royalty. You will find him a very interesting man, I give you my word, and one with influence.”

  Delancey’s distrust of the lean and hawk-faced Colonel was instinctive and immediate. He accepted the dinner invitation, however, and was glad to meet Mr Gosling, captain of the Venturer, before the other guests arrived. It appeared that Gosling had been a surgeon in the slave trade, having qualified at Liverpool Infirmary. He ended as master of a slaver after the other officers had died, and had since obtained his present command. He could be no older than about 24 but made up in confidence for what he lacked in knowledge. He complained about having no mate on whom he could rely, his first being no more than a promoted boatswain and his second a mere boy. When dinner was announced, Delancey found himself next to Dr Rathbone, a gnome-like figure with a mane of white hair, wizened features and a head too large for his very slight body and legs. However odd in appearance he turned out to be a good conversationalist and one whose chief interest lay in North Africa or at least in its classical history.

  “I owe my antiquarian interests,” he explained, “to the late Dr Thomas Shaw, Regius Professor of Greek and Principal of Edmund Hall. You will, no doubt, have read his Travels, published in 1783.”

  “And what, sir, aroused Dr Shaw’s enthusiasm?”

  “He was at one time Chaplain to the English Factory at Algiers. There can never have been a more inspiring teacher. Fired by his example, I have been on pilgrimage to Syrtis Minor and Hadrimetum, to Ithaca and to Carthage itself.”

  “In what we now call Tunisia?”

  “Yes, sir. My disappointment has been in failing to reach Numidia and more especially Hippo Regius. There, almost due south of this island, are the wonders of antiquity.”

  “But surely there are more extensive ruins in Italy, in Rome itself?”

  “Extensive, yes, but too often disturbed or hidden by later structures. There are cities in Africa, half buried in sand, which have been deserted by man since the time of St Augustine.”

  Delancey,
though no classical scholar, was able to show more than polite attention. The old man’s interest in the ancient world was infectious and it gained him, on this occasion, a passage to Gibraltar. Delancey could say, in all sincerity, that he would be glad to have him aboard.

  “And were we to sight the African shore,” sighed Dr Rathbone, “I could at least claim to have seen Mauritania from the sea.”

  On board the Merlin again, Delancey felt that he had conceded a great deal and received little in return. He had, it is true, an excuse to raid Pollensa Bay, but he had only the Colonel’s word for it that the operation would be worthwhile. As for the Venturer, he could foresee the greatest difficulty in making her keep station. He had a suspicion that Mr Gosling should have remained a surgeon and that the Colonel had more than had his fill of classical archaeology. He could imagine the practised ease with which Lord Cochrane would have parried the Colonel’s request. He should himself have learnt the art—he supposed that titled folk were born with it . . .

  That evening, Delancey broke the news to Mather and Stirling, telling the latter that he would have to give up his cabin for the next few weeks. “We shall have trouble, I fear, with the Venturer. In the meanwhile, I shall make a raid on Pollensa Bay. It should take place at dawn the day after tomorrow. The attack, I suspect, could well prove a waste of time, for the coasters there may be in ballast. As against that, the operation should afford useful experience for our young officers, more especially if we bring the prizes out. You, Mr Mather, will direct: Mr Langford will lead, with Mr Northmore and Mr Topley each commanding a boat. We shall anchor the Venturer at a distance, adding to our appearance of strength. If there is serious resistance, I shall make the signal of recall. I don’t want to lose men for nothing.”

  Mather’s face lighted up when he heard of the plan and Delancey knew that the others would react in the same way. It would be the sort of affair in which young officers would be given their chance.