They reminisced for a time, and it was all quite jolly, sharing memories and hi-jinks of younger days. Modestes First Lieutenant, Mr. Gilbraith, mostly followed his captain's example as a trencherman par excellence, chuckling over others' "war stories" now and then whilst piling it down as heartily as Captain Blanding did. Stroud, well… as Lewrie remembered him, he'd been a drab, much-put-upon figure who made very little impression; a grey sort of fellow of unremarkable expression and wit, or looks.
Two of 'em with but the one epaulet on their right shoulders, Lewrie took note as he ate; less than Three Years' Seniority, and both Parham and Stroud commandin' Fifth Rate 32-gunners? Anyone to join us later, I wonder? Or am I t'be second in seniority, in whatever this turns out t'be?
"All stuffed?" Captain Blanding asked at last. "Won't eat this well where we're going. Belcher, clear away, then take everyone out on deck for a spell. I'll call should I have need of you."
A bit more conversation of the idle sort, as the tablecloth and plates were cleared, and fresh pots of coffee or tea set on the sideboard for their convenience, and the steward and cabin-servants left.
"Now then!" Blanding said by way of beginning, rubbing his hands together with as much eagerness as he'd greeted his first helping of breakfast. In point of fact, Capt. Blanding put Lewrie in mind of Commodore Ayscough, with all his boisterous bonhomie and energetic way. Minus the haggises, boiled mutton, and bag-pipers, of course!
"The Crown's decided there's no living with the French, so we're going back to war. No secret, there. What we're to do is to seek out, intercept if possible in European waters, but if they slip past us, go in chase of and bring to action a French squadron preparing to sail to the Americas… specifically, from Bonaparte's little puppet Batavian Republic-Holland to good Christians-for New Orleans. Any of us familiar with New Orleans and Spanish Louisiana?"
"I am, sir," Lewrie piped up, wishing he could let out the buttons of his breeches after such a feast. "I was there once."
"Excellent!" Captain Blanding barked with delight. "I trust your experience in those waters will prove of eminent use in our endeavour, sir."
"Why Spanish Louisiana, sir?" Captain Parham asked, raising one hand like a dutiful student. "I'd think the French would wish to establish a stronger naval presence at Martinique, or Guadeloupe, after we handed those colonies back to them last year, before we place all their coast under blockade once more."
"Or a new squadron at Cape Franзois, on Saint Domingue. We'd not winkle them out of there without an army," Lt. Martin Hyde added.
"Sensible conjectures, all," Captain Blanding congratulated as he stirred sugar into his fresh cup of coffee. "But the fact of the matter is, about two years ago, Napoleon made a secret treaty with the King of Spain to exchange Tuscany, or Etruria, or whichever piss-pot conquest of his in Italy, for the return of Louisiana and New Orleans. Seems the King of Spain has a new brother-in-law with nowhere to hang his crown… or needs a crown and a place to hang it suitably grand-sounding to suit his dignity. Bonaparte would get the incredibly rich trade entrepфt of New Orleans, and territory to the west of the United States so vast that no one knows how far it goes.
"Well!" Blanding hooted. "Neither Great Britain nor our republican American cousins would ever stand for that! And even the Corsican half-breed ogre could realise the fact. Yet for a time he did consider building an American empire, and gathered an army in Holland to go take formal possession. This whole past winter, there's been a General Victor in Holland, with an army of three or four demi-brigades, whatever the Pluperfect Hell those are… anyone?"
"My brother-in-law tells me a demi-brigade is about two thousand men, sir," Lewrie contributed. "With engineers, artificers, and a large artillery contingent to fortify New Orleans and the forts strung down the Mississippi at the major bends. That might be an army as big as ten thousand men. Can't cram much more than five hundred of them aboard each transport, so that'd be… twenty ships, plus escort?"
"Damme, that would mean at least six or eight line-of-battle ships and frigates," Capt. Parham spoke up. "Mean to say, sir… are we all that's meant to oppose them?"
"Thank the Good Lord, this Victor chap was iced in all Winter and has had foul winds all Spring, during which time the situation has changed," Captain Blanding was quick to assure them, laughing the thought away. "Even before Easter, anyone could see the war's renewal, if they paid the slightest bit of attention or read but one newspaper a month! We will not face such a large force. You see… " Captain Blanding got as close to the dining table as his girth would admit, hunching bear-like on his elbows as he imparted his news in a softer mutter. "There are sources in Paris, d'ye see what sort I mean? They tell our people who deal in such matters that Bonaparte has given up on his dreams for an American empire and will settle for cash… with which to expand his army and navy, and prepare to fight us.
"The French Foreign Minister, Talleyrand, has been negotiating the sale of New Orleans, and all of formerly Spanish Louisiana, to the Yankee Doodles!"
Holy shit on a biscuit! Lewrie thought, stunned; and what will Charitй de Guilleri make o' that, I wonder? Hide a pistol up her bum, get to hand-kissin range, and shoot that bastard Bonaparte? Serve her right… serve him right, and spare us a sea o' bloodshed!
"So they'll still send a squadron to Louisiana, sir?" Parham enquired, puzzled. "And do our… sources say how big it is?"
"Much smaller, for certain," Captain Blanding said, leaning back and making his poor collapsible dining chair creak alarmingly. "Else, Admiralty would not be sending only four ships in pursuit of them. I expect that the French will now use the formal exchange as a pretext for despatching more warships to the West Indies, perhaps even using the suddenly neutral port of New Orleans as a shelter for frigates and privateers. If there are transports, I also expect that they will be sent into Cape Franзois on Saint Domingue to re-enforce what's left of their army fighting the slave rebellion, poor Devils. Perhaps only one or two of those demi-brigades will sail, with a much smaller escort, which might see a single battalion to New Orleans to make the ceremony of handing the place over all elegant and shiny. Fireworks, cannonades, a saluting volley or three? A band playing ' La Marseillaise'?" he disparaged with another hearty chuckle. "Then the French warships are free to pursue a guerre du course against our West Indies trade."
"Excuse me, sir, but the French would find New Orleans not very useful to them, even if it were American, and neutral," Lewrie pointed out. "The city is over an hundred miles upriver from the mouth of the delta, so the best they could do would be to establish themselves at the Head of Passes and Fort Balise, where the Mississippi flows out to the Gulf through several easily blockaded passes. Fort Balise is a small, weak, and easily defeated water bastion, but once the exchange is done, it's an American fort. And I doubt our Yankee cousins would let them anchor there or supply them with goods from the city if we're now at war with France." "You've seen this Fort Balise?" Blanding asked, intrigued. "Aye, sir," Lewrie replied, trying as usual for the proper English "pooh-poohing" modesty but, again as usual, failing badly at it. "That, and the city of New Orleans, in fact. A job of work for some Foreign Office types, a few years ago, in mufti, as the Hindoos say. French Creole patriots who wanted Spain out and France back in, and turned pirate t'finance their scheme, d'ye see? That's not t'say the Creoles and the pirates and privateersmen still there might not wish t'help the Frogs, but I don't see it done directly from New Orleans. Covert supplyin' through the bayous to Barataria, Timbalier, or Terrebonne Bay, or further west out of Atchafalaya or the Cote Blanche Bays. But… those are all very shallow waters, sir, barely deep enough for local schooners or small brigs, not corvettes or frigates. And they are bad holding-ground in a blow, with no shelter from the barrier islands. I'd expect one stiff diplomatic note from you, sir, to the new American authorities would force 'em to kick the French out and sit on anyone who'd sell ' em supplies. If Panton, Leslie amp; Company still does business in New Orleans, we could send a boat to Fort Balise, and a letter upriver, and know which merchant houses are involved within a fortnight… then turn 'em in to the local American government."