Devil to Pay (20 page)

So far as war with the Netherlands was concerned, Delancey knew that history had just repeated itself. Conquered by France, the Netherlands had recently become the Batavian Republic, Dutch ships being liable to seizure from February but many of them actually seized during the previous month. For this harvest Delancey came too late, but, apart from that, Delancey's Letter of Marque did not extend to operations against the Dutch, who were still regarded as a friendly people suffering from French oppression. There was nothing to be done in that direction. Spain, however, was still at peace. Now if that country were to be dragged into war on the French side, as might seem quite probable, a privateer could do well on the Spanish coast, especially if her commander were there before war were declared. For a really dramatic success the first need was to anticipate the outbreak of war, the second need to obtain early news of it. Given those conditions anything would be possible, even the capture of a register ship with treasure enough to establish one's fortune. In a pleasant daydream Delancey saw himself as a landowner, a country gentleman, allied by marriage to the nobility. He had then to remind himself that he was just as likely to end in ignominious defeat, discredited and wounded or even taken prisoner. Privateer
owners
could be prosperous enough, or so he had heard, but how many captains ended in possession of a country estate? Fewer, he guessed, than the number killed in action.

From the
Naval Atalantis
Delancey turned to the
Mysteries of Udolpho.
He was somewhat impatient with the early chapters, turning quickly over the pages until Emily, the heroine, reached the Castle of Udolpho. If there were mysteries this was her moment to encounter them. He had to admit that the scene at nightfall was well described and that Emily had some reason to feel apprehensive. A first gateway was flanked by towers over which grass and wild plants grew, having taken root among the mouldering stones. The carriage passed through a gloomy outer court.

“Another gate delivered them into the second court, grass-grown and more wild than the first, where, as she surveyed through the twilight its desolation—its lofty walls overtopped with bryony, moss and nightshade, and the embattled towers that rose above— long suffering and murder came to her thoughts. One of these instantaneous and unaccountable convictions, which sometimes conquer even strong minds, impressed her with its horror.”

Turning over the pages Delancey realized that there was no shortage of either mystery or horror. He found himself thinking of D'Auvergne's Castle of Navarre. There was nothing Gothic about that, he supposed, and yet he felt envy of anyone who had so romantic a background. His own name was sufficiently romantic but he had never heard of any Delancey being either famous or noble. There were the American Delanceys, folk he had actually met in New York, but he had no great desire to claim them as kinsfolk. His pride of ancestry must clearly centre upon his mother's family. She had been an Andros and with that name was associated some idea of former consequence. So far as Guernsey was concerned, however, the Andros family had almost ceased to exist. He resolved, though, to make inquiries when the opportunity offered. He would not turn out to be the missing heir; of that he felt tolerably certain. He did feel, however, that a touch of the romantic would be welcome.

Once ashore again at St Peter Port, Delancey asked about His Highness, the Prince of Bouillon, only to be told that his former chief was now stationed in Jersey. When he inquired about the
Nemesis
he was told that she was in harbour. And there indeed she was, apparently under repair with nobody on board but caulkers and riggers; a fine little ship, nevertheless.

She was ship-rigged with good lines, well equipped and well maintained. She could have been a king's ship, one of the smaller sloops built in about 1780, but measured only 270 tons. But for smaller dimensions she might have been a sister ship to the
Savage
or the
Thorn,
both of sixteen guns. There was nothing smart about her appearance but Delancey's heart warmed to her at once. He felt certain that she would look lovely under sail. Leaving her with some reluctance he next learnt that Mr Elisha Jeremie was not in town that day but might be found in St Martin's parish. Deciding to leave that pilgrimage until the morrow, he took a room at the Albion Inn, hiring a porter to carry his sea-chest up from the packet. On the way there he was hailed in the street by Sam Carter:

“Good to see you, Captain!” said Sam. “Welcome back to Guernsey! I hear tell that you are now in a different line of business.”

There was no mistaking the sincerity of this greeting and Delancey remembered that he and Sam were no longer opposed. They met for supper that night and drank the health of John Early, who was employing them both. From the friendly conversation which followed it was evident that the free-trader was doing well. France was in a confused state, that could not be denied, but prices were rising and trade was brisk. Sam was a mine of information on Channel shipping but was rather doubtful about the success likely to be achieved by the
Nemesis.
There were too many warships around and too few prizes of any value. Delancey and Carter agreed to act together whenever it should prove possible.

Later that evening Delancey was greeted by a Mr Le Page who remembered him as a schoolfellow.

“All the island was talking about you last year, Mr Delancey. The story was that you were called out by an officer of the garrison and that you ran him through, not so much as to kill him but enough to teach him a lesson. Or was that all mere gossip?”

“Such a meeting did take place, sir.”

“Well, that's what we heard. There are a few of us can remember you as a boy and we were all on your side. These young army officers behave as if the island belongs to them. But you put one of them in his place and we were all glad to hear about it.”

Delancey was surprised but pleased to find that he was something of a local hero, the fight being remembered and nothing said about his subsequently leaving the island. He later came to realize that any privateer commander was a hero in St Peter Port.

Next day Delancey set out for St Martin's and for Les Câches, the place where Mr Elisha Jeremie was said to be living. Whether he actually owned the property or not (and Delancey had heard conflicting stories about that) he was certainly in residence and expecting Delancey's visit.

The house had been built early in the century and stood back at the end of an avenue, with meadows on either side and an orchard beyond. A servant showed Delancey into the parlour where he was presently joined by Mr Jeremie. Their conversation was in French.

“Mr Delancey? Your servant sir. I was forewarned by Mr Early that you were to be expected and I am happy to welcome you to this house.”

Elisha Jeremie was an elderly and pompous gentleman, short, plump and red in the face. It soon became apparent that he was the managing owner of the
Nemesis.
Like almost any other privateer she was owned by a syndicate but with one more active partner deputed to act for the rest. In this capacity Mr Jeremie took himself very seriously and behaved on this occasion as if Delancey's appointment was merely under consideration. Although privately convinced that John Early's decision had been final, Delancey assumed the role of an applicant, answering Mr Jeremie's questions with a proper humility.

“I notice, sir, that your name is Richard Andros Delancey. I would suppose from your middle name that you are related to the Guernse
y
family that lived here at Les Câches during the reign of George II?”

“My mother was an Andros, sir, and cousin, I believe, to James Andros, whose death I remember.”

“James lived here and was colonel of the South Regiment of Militia. But the Andros family were connected over a much longer period with another place in the north of the island.”

“I never heard that, sir.”

“The Delancey name is not as well known.”

“I should suppose not, sir.”

“No, not well known at all. But you hold a commission in the navy and have spent some years at sea?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have been in action?” “Yes, sir.”

“But you have never before served in a private man-of-war, Mr Delancey?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you must realize that a ship like the
Nemesis
is not like a king's ship, bound to seek the enemy in battle. Her role is different in that she is expected to yield a profit. Her owners have been to considerable expense in building, arming, equipping and provisioning the ship and they hope to see a return on their outlay.”

“No doubt, sir. And I should be right to conclude, surely, that they also want to play their part in bringing the war to a successful conclusion?”

There was a minute or two of silence before Mr Jeremie replied.

“The owners are loyal to the king and his enemies are undoubtedly theirs. You must recall, however, that their means are limited. It is not to be supposed that they can pursue a naval campaign at their own cost. It is the return on each cruise that must pay for the next.”

“And how can the ship's commander be certain of making such a profit?”

“It is a matter of precise calculation, sir. Let us suppose that you have sighted a ship and recognized her as French. Having made an estimate of her strength and her value as a prize, you have to set down three figures: her sale value, ship and cargo taken together; the damage
you
are likely to sustain in making the capture, and the damage
she
will sustain before she is taken. If the last two figures exceed the first, you will let her alone.”

“I understand, sir.”

“I realize, of course, that your estimates cannot be infallible. You can recognize her port of origin, however, and the trade for which she was designed. You can count her gun ports and you can see whether she is laden or in ballast. Your success must then depend on the nicety of your calculations and the energy and resolution you display in attacking a vessel which you have judged to be worth capturing.”

“Just so, Mr Jeremie.”

“Certain mistakes are too commonly made, especially by young men who are new to the business. After a cruise perhaps of months, with no prize taken of any sort, a privateer commander will sometimes lose patience and make an ill-advised attempt to capture a ship of a force superior to his own. Rather than return empty-handed he will convince himself that the attempt is justified. With what result? He returns empty-handed, as he would have done in any event, but with his sails shot to pieces, his rigging knotted or spliced, a hole or two between wind and water and his pumps barely able to keep his ship afloat. You may suppose that the owners of the ship will express their disapprobation in the strongest terms.”

“With good reason, sir, I must confess.”

“It is also incumbent upon the commander to remember that the noise of gunfire is often undesirable. You will seldom have the whole of the English Channel to yourself. A prolonged action may attract the attention of enemy cruisers. Worse still, perhaps, it may bring to the scene another privateer under our own flag, offering assistance but claiming a half of the prize. Where possible the capture should be made by boarding and without gunfire, no damage being done to either ship.”

“Very true, Mr Jeremie.”

“You have also to understand that, while your crew will be large enough to man the first prizes you take, you will be progressively weakened by your own success; one attempt too many, launched with insufficient force might lead to your own capture and nullify the results of your previous good fortune. The wise commander should know when he has done enough.”

“He should indeed, sir, and I take your point.”

Delancey was somewhat repelled by the strictly commercial approach to what had seemed, from a distance, a more romantic vocation. He grasped, nevertheless, that Mr Jeremie's advice was based on common sense. No conceivable victory at sea would justify a commander whose owners were left bankrupt. When his chance came to ask questions he asked about the officers already appointed; who were they and of what quality and experience? On this point, however, Mr Jeremie referred him to Mr Perelle.

“You may have heard that the
Nemesis
was highly successful on her last cruise. War with Holland had just begun and there were great opportunities. Mr Perelle made the most of them and decided to quit the sea. He is now a part-owner of the
Nemesis
and the man best able to inform you about both ship and crew. He lives at Portinfer in the Vale Parish and I suggest you call on him tomorrow.”

Delancey followed this advice and found himself next day in a part of the island which was strange to him. He knew his way round St Martin's and St Andrew's. He was not entirely lost in Câtel or the Forest, but St Sampson's, like Torteval, represented a foreign territory where French was spoken with a different accent. As for the Vale proper, that other island beyond the bridge at St Sampson's, he had never been there in his life. Portinfer was not as remote as that, and he had seen the place from the sea when out fishing as a boy, but he had only a vague idea of how to reach it from St Peter Port. In the end he obtained a lift in a farm cart to Cobo and walked up the coast from there.

It was a good day for a walk, sunny at the moment but with patches of cloud and some darkness over the sea to the westward. It was a lovely stretch of coast, flat and fringed with rocks. Delancey remembered that Cobo granite was of a blue colour and valued for quoins and lintels and gateposts. He saw some quarries that were being worked but the only dwellings were four low-built thatched cottages. He was finally directed to a farmhouse which indicated a higher level of prosperity; the property, he learnt, of the man he was seeking.

Mr Perelle was a typical Guernseyman, short and sturdy, suspicious at first but soon ready to help. He spoke highly of the
Nemesis
but was rather more guarded on the subject of her officers.