Dead Reckoning (9 page)

Delancey thought now, as he paced the deck, of Chatelard's system of intelligence. Suppose he had spies ashore at Bassein, Penang, Malacca, and Palembang, how could they communicate quickly enough with their employer? Take the case of an opium ship, laden with rice, wheat, piece goods, and specie (in addition to the drug). She would sail from Calcutta in January or
thereabouts and call at all the major ports right down to the Lingga Archipelago, collecting tin, pepper, rattan, wax, and betel-nut before going on, eventually, to China. If the
Subtile
had a rendevous near Lingga, how could an agent at Malacca ensure that his information would arrive in time? In point of fact the only opium ship taken by the
Subtile
had been intercepted off the Sandheads, in the approaches to Calcutta, but what about the
Macaulay,
taken off Cape Rachado? Could news of her coming have been sent from Penang? It was true, of course, that an opium ship would lose time in discharging and shipping cargo but the boat which conveyed the message might equally lose time in finding the privateer. Was there a native boat suitable for the purpose? He decided at this point to take Mather into his confidence. After all, if he himself were to go down with fever, it would be Mather's task to destroy the
Subtile.
So Mather needed to know all that his captain had been told or had guessed. Nor was Mather unhelpful when consulted.

“I should not have thought that the ordinary native boats were built for speed. I suspect that the bamboo slats in the sails of the Chinese craft give them some capability of working to windward. Sampans are slow, I should say, and the Malay prahus no better. But there was something I heard recently which might have a bearing on this problem. A lieutenant in the
Seahorse
had been ashore somewhere in the Riau Strait—maybe Pulo Bintan or thereabouts—and visited a Malay village where the men raced model boats against each other, betting on the result.”

“I never heard of that. But why is this relevant?”

“Well, sir, the boats were perhaps two feet long, each with an outrigger and a float on the end of it.”

“Yes?”

“The outrigger enabled each boat to carry a vast sail area in
relation to its size. They could sail at a remarkable speed. The officer who had seen this tried one of these boats against his six-oared cutter. Pulling their utmost, his men were outdistanced each time, and still outdistanced when they hoisted sail. He was surprised at the result of these trials and wondered whether the Malays ever built full-size boats of the same pattern. If they did, he thought, they would be just as fast. But the Malays he questioned could give him no sufficient answer to his queries on this point, probably because they did not understand him.”

“Mr Mather, I am obliged to you. I understand that there are boats at Madras with an outrigger, called catamarans and designed so as not to upset in the surf. But success with a model is not quite the same thing as success with an actual boat. For one thing, no one is drowned when a model capsizes!”

“Very true, sir. But if there are small craft with an outrigger and a large sail area, they could be very fast indeed. They might not be suitable for the ocean but could work up a great speed in the Straits of Malacca. Should we see a craft of this kind we shall have the clue, perhaps, to the plan which Chatelard follows.”

“I agree. We should learn nothing, however, from intercepting such a vessel. She would carry nothing in writing, of that we may be sure, but her mere presence would show us how the trick is done.”

What further information they could obtain about catamarans in Far Eastern waters was contradictory and confused, some people having heard that such craft existed but none claiming to have seen them at sea. By one account they had once been common but had more recently gone out of fashion.

While still refitting and shipping provisions at Penang, Delancey received the following letter from the Admiral:

Sir—Captain Stavely of the
Seahorse
has recently been admitted to hospital with a serious illness, since when a medical board has reported that he must be invalided home. It is now my duty to appoint an acting captain to that ship and I have decided to promote Lieutenant Nicholas Mather into the vacancy in recognition of your success in the recent action against the French ships
Tourville, Charente,
and
Romaine.
You will accordingly direct Lieutenant Mather to assume command of the
Seahorse,
giving him the acting commission enclosed herewith. You will no doubt wish to promote one of your other officers as first lieutenant and one of your young gentlemen to the vacant lieutenancy. If you will submit the names for promotion I shall make out the acting commissions accordingly . . .

With this letter before him, Delancey reflected that this moment had long since been inevitable. He could not have expected to keep Mather any longer and had been lucky indeed to have kept him for so long. Now he would have to make do with Fitzgerald as first lieutenant, a handsome, black-haired, thin-faced man much admired by the ladies, a man with an attractive Irish accent but a poor replacement for Mather, an officer who was good in battle but no pastmaster in day-to-day training and management. At this point the deterioration of his crew would begin. His acting-lieutenant would be the Hon. Stephen Northmore, over the head of Wayland, who had failed the examination, leaving Topley next in line. Northmore would make a good officer, of this there could be no doubt. But what if Fitzgerald were promoted or killed? Greenwell would be hopeless as first lieutenant and Northmore would lack the experience. Losses, moreover, had begun on the lower deck, a petty officer
and three seamen invalided out (all members of the one boat's crew), one seaman drowned, and one marine private deserted. So it would go on, with no replacements to be found. In the meanwhile, he must congratulate Mather and wish him joy on promotion. He sent for him at once and came to the point:

“Mr Mather, it is my, pleasure and privilege to hand you your acting commission as Master and Commander of the
Seahorse,
succeeding Captain Stavely, who has been invalided home. I suggest that you call on the Admiral now and go on board the
Seahorse
tomorrow in the forenoon, returning to this ship for a farewell dinner at which your messmates will say good-bye to you. For my part I must thank you now for all your past service under my command. I could not have had a better first lieutenant. I am totally confident of your fitness to command your own ship and I look forward to hearing of your being made post. I shall do all in my power to further your career and have no doubt that it will be not merely successful but distinguished.”

More unnerved than Delancey had ever seen him, Mather stammered his thanks and withdrew. Interviews followed with Fitzgerald and Northmore, with Greenwell, Wayland, and Topley. A weakened team had to re-group so as to face the future. If only Greenwell had any personality, if only Wayland had any brain!

The Admiral sailed next day for Madras, taking his squadron with him and leaving the
Laura
to complete her refit and proceed on her mission. The farewell dinner for Mather was followed next day by a farewell dinner on board the flagship. All seemed very quiet after the squadron had gone. Leaving Fitzgerald to find his feet as first lieutenant and leaving Northmore to have his new uniform made by a Sikh tailor in Georgetown, Delancey spent time ashore making discreet inquiries about possible enemy agents. He found that Penang had been visited last year by a
slightly suspect European who had described himself as a missionary and who had presently been asked to leave. If his object had been to set up a network of native agents there was little hope of identifying his representatives in Georgetown. There were swarms of tradesmen there, Chinese, Eurasian, and Indian, and almost any one of them might serve his purpose, few of them feeling any particular allegiance towards the East India Company. One government official, the Assistant Secretary, proved particularly helpful—being fluent in Malay—but he offered little hope of finding the needle in this particular haystack. He knew of the Malay type of catamaran but had never actually seen one in Penang harbour. Nor could he see that such a craft could serve any useful purpose, whether for fishing or for trade. That Pierre Chatelard should have a system of intelligence seemed to him very possible and he promised to look out for any sign of espionage. He told Delancey what he knew about Borneo but admitted that he had never been there. He was evidently a keen antiquary and told his guests at dinner one day that the ancient capital of Kedah lay buried somewhere in the jungle, perhaps near the foot of Kedah Peak. He had heard stories about it and had been shown one or two carved stones said to come from there. The conversation centred presently on the future of Prince of Wales Island. Trade was flourishing there but the place, it was now clear, was far from deserving its reputation for health. Many had died recently of malaria and there had been too many deaths from the liver complaint. The one certain fact was that seamen fared better at sea or even in harbour if prevented from going ashore. On land there was nothing as fatal as the pestilent swamps which surrounded many a river mouth. What no one could understand was why Georgetown, surrounded by recently cleared jungle, was as unhealthy as it was proving to be.

As the process of refitting and victualling came to an end Delancey had the opportunity to write home.

April 25th 1806

My dearest Fiona—My last letter, of immense length and full of detailed information, went with a man-of-war to Madras but the opportunity occurs to write again, entrusting the letter to a ship which should reach home even sooner. Our stay here is nearing its end, the chief event being the promotion which has deprived me of my first lieutenant, Mr Nicholas Mather, whom you will remember. The promotion was more than justified but I cannot persuade myself that his replacement will leave me with so little to do! It is all too likely that we shall have other losses and that I shall have to work harder as time goes on. You might suspect that I might as readily fall sick as anyone else but I never think that at all likely. I feel (wrongly, no doubt) that I am indispensable and that, whoever goes sick, it must never be me. I dread the moment, however, when I become, in effect, my own first lieutenant because I was never very good in that role and have been spoilt for years by having, in Mather, the perfect deputy. This is a beautiful country and I have been royally entertained by the folk who are stationed here. I have made a friend of one rather junior official, Thomas Raffles, who is clearly the government's chief source of inspiration and energy. Some more senior men think of themselves as in exile from London or Calcutta but this is his first overseas appointment and he is fascinated by everything. He has a charming wife called
Olivia and a delightful Malay-style house full of native documents, and curios. With his help I have picked up some slight acquaintance with the Malay language and some slight knowledge of Malay institutions and folklore. All this may be useful in the months to come. But you will ask at this point how many months must pass before I begin the voyage home. The answer must be that I have no idea. In more cheerful moods I say ‘1807.' When sunk in gloom, which is not very often, I groan ‘1810.' I am now to be employed on ‘a particular service.' You last heard the phrase applied to Sir Home Popham's conquest of the Cape. On this occasion the service is different to this extent that only my own ship is involved. All else is secret and I must say no more lest the enemy should see this letter. Do you remember young Northmore? He now dons his uniform and wears his sword as acting lieutenant and I expect to see my other midshipmen similarly transformed, boys made into men with a stroke of the pen! I wonder how they will do as officers and then I remind myself that older men long ago had as many doubts about me, and perhaps with more reason! Mine was a chequered career, God knows, but I am now a grave and responsible officer, older than most people on board, and no youngster can imagine that I was once of his age and thought (at one time) to have no future at all. I shall reveal no important information if I tell you that I shall presently visit Malacca, for long the chief city in the Straits of that name, fortified by the Portuguese but now dwindled in importance. It is said to be picturesque and I may be tempted to portray its crumbling glories in watercolour. I have made several sketches of Penang but will not
attempt to send them home. You shall hear of all these places some day when seated by the fireside at Anneville and our friends will mutter to each other “How tedious the old man is with all his tales of the East!” This thought warns me to curtail my description now and end this letter, asking you to believe me still, and always,

Your most affectionate husband,

Richard Delancey

T
HE
LAURA
was at anchor off the town and port of Malacca and Delancey was paying his courtesy call on the Company's Resident, Captain William Farquhar, who had governed the place since its capture from the Dutch in 1796. He was a rather pedantic Scotsman, a little pompous on first acquaintance and seemingly embittered by the slowness of his promotion. His knowledge of the country and of the Malay language was profound and he knew all that was to be known about the local trade and commerce. He knew about Chatelard of the
Subtile
and gave careful thought to the system of intelligence upon which his operations might be based. He acknowledged that Chatelard might have an agent in Malacca, perhaps some Dutch Eurasian with French sympathies, perhaps some Javanese trader working merely for pay. With twenty thousand inhabitants, it would not be easy to find the spy among them. As for a fast outrigger sailing canoe, he had seen nothing of the sort but had to confess that he had made no study of the native small craft. When asked about Delancey's brother, Michael, he was more forthcoming.