Chapter 4

26 February 1814

H.M.S. Wallace

My Lords,

I have the privilege of informing your Lordships of our meeting with the newly commissioned French frigate L'Empereur two days ago. Following the gale of 20 February, we found ourselves driven far from our intended course and our the mizzenmast shattered by lightning. Shortly after we had cleared the wreckage away, we spotted the French ship in the northeast. I deemed it best to avoid a meeting, but because of our condition was unable to carry out that particular plan. Accordingly, we adopted a somewhat unusual ruse de guerre in order to convince her captain that we were a French merchant ship. Particular credit for the success of our deception goes to Able Seaman Paul Laphin and a passenger, my late brother's widow, Mrs. Caroline Stanhope.

William paused, his pen poised above the inkwell as he wondered just how much of the ruse de guerre he should put in the official letter. Word of what had happened would quickly circulate throughout Portsmouth, where they would make port tomorrow afternoon, and eventually find its way to the Admiralty. That would be enough.

"Oh, my heavens!" Caroline had exclaimed when she came out on deck, blinking in the morning sunlight that finally shone upon the ship. "One of your... your —"

"Masts," William filled in the word.

"Yes, one of your masts is missing."

"Lightning, I'm afraid. It will be a rather slow crawl back to Dartmouth after all."

"Where are we?"

"Ah," William answered, "that is just what we were trying to determine. Thank you, Mr. Martin. We are all agreed as to the latitude, of course, but our only chronometer has been damaged, and I have asked Mr. Martin and our young midshipmen here to make their own calculations of our longitude. Let me see. Well, Mr. Rutledge believes that we are re-tracing Hannibal's route across the Alps."

He cocked an eyebrow at the young officer, who was making sure that he had applied sufficient polish to his shoes that morning.

"And Mr. Chapman has us about to enter Halifax harbor in Canada."

Mr. Chapman was intently examining the men cutting away the last of the fallen rigging.

"The master, on the other hand," William said with a nod toward Mr. Martin," has us slightly west of the Bay of Biscay. I concur, Mr. Martin. Let's proceed northeast until we get a little closer to Brest, and then we'll head north for home."

"Very good, sir," the master answered. "We should have this cleared away shortly and be ready to make sail."

William nodded absently, and turned back to invite Caroline to breakfast.

"Sail ho!"

"Where away?" William yelled up to the lookout.

"Nor'east, sir. Hull-down. I can only see the tops of 'er sails, but she looks French."

"Damn. Belay that earlier order, master. The storm must have driven the blockading squadron off the coast, and Boney's got one of his ships to sea. In our condition, we'd be sitting ducks, even for another sloop. Better head northwest until we can lose him."

The master headed back for the wheel to give his orders, and William finally issued his invitation. They had no sooner finished breakfast, however, when he was summoned back to the quarterdeck for more bad news.

"I think she's seen us, sir," Mr. Martin said. "A frigate She's throwin' out signals."

"Damn," William said again. "We've got the weather-gage, but not the ship to use it. Yes, Mr. Wainwright?"

"It's Cooper, sir," the ship's lieutenant said. "He has an idea you might like to hear."

"Matthew?"

"Paul Laphin, sir, the Guernseyman in the foreguard?"

"Yes?"

"Well, sir, it's 'is opinion, like, that if we removed the stump of this mizzenmast here, we would look very much like one o' them Biscayans that cruise up and down these here waters."

William smiled.

"And the gunports, Matthew? Most Biscayans don't have quite so many guns."

"Aye, sir," the coxswain agreed nervously. "But I was thinking, sir, that if we strung the ship with bunting, like, for a celebration o' the captain's wedding, we could pull the cap over their eyes, like, for a good while."

Captain Stanhope stared at his coxswain, more impressed with the man's cunning than he wanted to let on.

"Let us suppose that we can do so. What is preventing her from coming within hailing distance and inviting the bride and groom over for a dinner?"

"Nothing, sir," Matthew said with a crooked smile.

"And how do you propose that I pull that off? I don't have more than five words of French, and I know for a fact that Mr. Wainwright speaks less than I do."

"Aye, sir, but Paul, 'e speaks a sort of Channel French, and, um, Mrs. Stanhope, sir —"

"Absolutely not," William ruled it out immediately. "We will do nothing to endanger Mrs. Stanhope or her maid."

"Aye, sir," Matthew agreed. "Although being as how the Frenchies are right over the horizon and all..."

"It's a good point, Matthew," William said after another minute's consideration. "Are you sure that Mrs. Stanhope speaks French?"

"Oh, aye, sir. Which I heard her speaking with your cook at home, sir, what has the French."

"Very well. Mr. Wainwright, please pass the word for — excuse me, please ask Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Burton to join me on deck. I believe that Mrs. Stanhope is still finishing breakfast. And Miss Burton is probably, um..."

"In the cabin, sir," Matthew said quietly. "Which I brought her her breakfast this morning."

"Yes," William drawled. "In the cabin. Mr. Wainwright, I want this mast unstepped and the hole covered with whatever cargo you can find. And then break down everything on the deck that marks us as a British naval vessel. Hoist the French colors. And get every manjack who's not needed elsewhere to work on sewing bunting. Those bastards are going to sew like they've never sewed before. Oh, not you, Matthew. No, no. You wait here for the moment."

"Sir?" Matthew asked suspiciously.

"Ah, Mrs. Stanhope, Miss Burton," William said with a smile. "I trust you slept well, Miss Burton."

Without waiting for an answer, William launched into an explanation of the plan, concluding with the request that the women immediately set to work sewing a French dress for Mrs. Stanhope to use later that afternoon.

"We shall be more than happy to," Caroline answered, "although..."

"Although what?"

"Although we are both tolerable seamstresses, Captain, we are neither one of us particularly quick."

"So you might need some assistance? Matthew."

William turned to his coxswain with a knowing smile.

"Sir?"

"Who's the best tailor on board?"

"The best tailor, sir? That would be..." Matthew looked about him wildly. "That would be, er..."

"That would be you, would it not, Matthew?"

"Aye, sir," Matthew said in resigned whisper.

"Very well, report to the cabin and place yourself under Mrs. Stanhope's orders."

He watched them walk away, Caroline with a determined expression, Matthew with a hangdog look, and Lucy perfectly delighted at the turn of events.

The day that followed was one of the most tense that Captain William Stanhope had ever experienced. Covered in cloth bunting, the Wallace was indeed required to come within hailing distance of the French ship, where Laphin's fear nearly queered the deal. The man was so scared of giving away the ruse that he was even more taciturn than usual.

Fortunately, Caroline was superb. A spring thaw was already starting to warm the sea air, and Caroline took full advantage. She, Lucy, and Matthew worked furiously to reproduce a dress that she had seen in London, one that provided a nearly obscene display of décolletage. Even Captain Stanhope, dressed in an ordinary merchant seaman's outfit, had stared when she came on deck. Once they grew close to the French ship, she explained the situation in perfect French, charming the French captain as well as the leering sailors that seemed to have an astonishing amount of work to do in the frigate's rigging. As William had expected, an invitation brought the happy couple over to the French ship for a celebratory supper. Hours passed, William's anxiety at the danger to which he had exposed his sister-in-law gnawing at his churning stomach.

Finally, he heard Matthew's whispered "there it is." A boat was putting off from the L'Empereur, and he could see Caroline waving gaily to the officers and men of the French ship as it pulled away.

"Thank God," he breathed in her ear as she was hoisted aboard in a makeshift sling and Laphin came climbing up the side ropes. "I was so scared. What did you learn, Laphin?"

"It weren't me, sor," said the Guernseyman, still itching at his makeshift merchant captain's coat. "She had them give 'er a tour of the whole place while I sat and drank brandy with the captain, Captain Marchand it was."

"The ship is brand new and they are quite proud of it," Caroline said quietly. "They have forty-four guns and four carronades. A crew of 200 serving together for the first time. The captain would have rolled out the guns for practice if I had not dissuaded him, although he confided that it would be a fairly ragged practice. The guns are new, apparently, and the crews new to them. And they did leave Brest so hastily, it seems, that they had not yet received their complement of soldiers."

"So there will be nobody in the rigging when we attack," William said with a grin. "And inexperienced gun crews as well. Excellent. Caroline, you were marvelous. How was the dinner, Laphin?"

"Oh, quite good, sor. Much like we used to eat at 'ome."

"And they were impressed with you and your new wife?"

"Quite impressed with Madame Laphin." The seaman finally cracked a grin. "I didn't have to say hardly anythin' at all, sor. They never took their eyes off of her."

"William, what did you mean when you said attack?"

"Another day of keeping company with our French friends will be absolutely fatal. Then again, if we part company, even tonight, they will sound the alarm and catch us quite easily. And if we wait until morning, they will send us into Brest under their guns. No, our only chance, it seems to me, is to take the battle to them tonight. They will reduce sail tonight in this wind, just as we have done. But we shall wait until the very middle of the middle watch and pack the sail on again. When we catch up, we will send a broadside into them from the starboard guns, and then board them, every last one of us, in the confusion. I will have to ask that you and Lucy wait in the forepeak, Caroline. It is the safest place on the ship."

"But we only have sixteen guns!" Caroline protested. "You cannot attack a forty-four gun frigate with only sixteen guns."

"Perhaps not. But otherwise we are prisoners in Brest for the duration, eh, Mr. Wainwright?"

"Quite true, miss," the lieutenant bowed to his captain's request with his own smile flitting across his usually saturnine features.

"Very well," Caroline sighed. "And who will be steering the ship while every last one of you is away?"