Young Mr. Quinn did not let this worry him. The summer days at sea in the blue Mediterranean, and the prospect of excitement to come, kept him reasonably happy. It was on the fourth day after leaving Gibraltar that he became aware of a certain tenseness in the manner of everyone on board the Althea. The frigate had passed the latitude of the Pyrenees, and was entering the Gulf of Lions. No longer was there a neutral shore on her beam-she was cruising off the south coast of France, the arch-enemy of England, and gradually closing in towards enemy territory.
That night, an hour after sunset, Gifford, the Second Lieutenant, put his round pleasant face into the gunroom where the three midshipmen had just finished their supper.
"You're wanted in the main cabin, gentlemen," he said with a smile. "The captain's called a conference-and I think it'll be a council of war."
The main cabin was in the extreme stern of the ship, not a very large room but a well-lit one, for a wide stern-window with lockers under it looked out above the big wooden rudder. Tonight it was lit by a large oil-lamp swinging from the low beams overhead. Captain Sainsbury and his three lieutenants were seated at the small table, and the midshipmen sat on the lockers in the window. The captain, as usual, wasted no time in preliminaries.
"We are about to commence operations, gentlemen," he said, looking round the six intent faces. "Port Vendres, and the town of Perpignan further inland, are just over the horizon. It is almost certain that the French have garrisons in both places, and there may be ships of war in Port Vendres harbour. I wish to find out for certain."
He flattened out a large chart that lay on the table in front of him, and beckoned the midshipmen to come forward so that they could see it.
"This curve of coast is all sandy beach," he explained. "Here is Port Vendres, strongly fortified. The guns of that fort will be twenty-pounders at least-probably heavier. We cannot hope to get near the port without being observed and blown out of the water before our own guns are in range. Here-ten miles to the north and inland from the coast-you see Perpignan, a large fortified town. Our map is incomplete, but there must be a road connecting the two. Probably it runs along the coast some little distance from the shore. There will be a considerable amount of traffic along that road between two fortified towns."
He leaned back from the chart and once more looked at his officers.
"I want prisoners," he continued. "At the same time, I wish to try and keep Althea's presence on this coast from becoming known to the French. I have called you all to this council, but only three officers will be needed for this landing operation, which will be a small one."
"I wish to volunteer," barked Lieutenant Pyke at once. "Thank you, Mr. Pyke. I must ask you, however, to let me choose on this occasion. Mr. Gifford will command the whole operation, for which I shall send the launch and the cutter. Mr. Barry will be in command of the launch, with Mr. Quinn to second him."
He looked up inquiringly as a muffled sound between a snort and a gurgle came from Midshipman Cocker, but that young gentleman was sitting with his mouth tightly shut and an expression of angry disappointment on his face. The captain went on with his explanation.
"I shall leave the details of organisation to Mr. Gifford, but I want these orders observed. One of the two boats is to land two miles north of Port Vendres, the other two miles south of the mouth of the River Tet, on which Perpignan stands. The landings will thus be about six miles apart along the coast. The boats will put off tomorrow night from Althea, who will stand by six miles offshore. Since I wish to keep the frigate below the horizon, I shall not be able to support the landings. Is that clear?"
Lieutenant Gifford leaned forward. "I take it, sir," he said, "that our best plan will be to get into position near the road before dawn, and then-"
"You are in command, Mr. Gifford," interrupted Captain Sainsbury. "How you capture your men is your business. I suggest, however, that each party should bring back one prisoner only, and that such prisoner should if possible be a man who can tell us something about the military situation ashore. You will remember that army patrols and convoys use that road. I rely on your proved discretion to avoid any fighting, of course. But if you find it possible to take a French officer-well, that might be worth a skirmish."
At three o'clock in the morning, thirty-one hours after Captain Sainsbury had issued his preliminary orders, two boats in line ahead were creeping in towards the French coast. The night was moonless, and the glimmer of stars showed the two black shapes like many-legged beetles. A faint glow of phosphorescence showed each time the oars dipped their blades, but there was no creaking from the muffled rowlocks.
A light breeze had enabled both boats to make the better part of their six-mile voyage under sail. Before the low broken line of the coast had appeared, however, Mr. Gifford had ordered sails in and masts lowered and they had taken to the oars. The cutter was in the lead. Astern of her followed the launch, with Charles Barry at the tiller and Septimus Quinn sitting in the sternsheets beside him. Both had cutlasses at their sides, as had the nine seamen in their boat. Pistols had not been issued, for silence was an essential part of their plan even if they had to beat off an attack.
"Can't be far off the shore now," muttered Barry nervously. "Mr. Gifford will give us the word," replied Septimus reassuringly.
He could feel the slight trembling of Barry's arm. He repressed a wish that he, and not his friend, had been given command of a boat-Charles was so plainly unsure of himself. But Septimus was bound to obey any orders Charles might give, not because he was a year younger but because his name was further down the List at the Admiralty. It was the law of the Navy. When two officers of equal rank were together, the one who had joined first, and whose name was therefore higher on the List, was the senior of the two.
"Cutter's stopped pulling," said Barry suddenly. " 'Vast pulling, launch."
The launch crept alongside the leading boat, and Lieutenant
Gifford's voice came across the intervening space of dark water.
"We're about a mile offshore, Mr. Barry. We'll part here. If my reckoning's correct, we're midway between our landing-points. You know your course?"
"North by west, sir."
"Yes. I'd keep a little north of that. You'll pull five knots, roughly, so if you row for thirty-five minutes and then head in for the shore you'll be in position. Good luck!"
"Aye aye, sir. Good luck to you!"
The cutter's head bore away and she disappeared into the night as the launch turned in the opposite direction and began to move northward.
Most of the previous day had been spent in discussing and preparing the operation, for though it was a small one and likely to be straightforward if all went well, nothing could be left to chance except the actual taking of prisoners. Midshipmen Barry and Quinn knew exactly what they had to do by the time they had finished discussing it with Lieutenant Gifford. They were to land with eight men, leaving the ninth in charge of the boat. Then they were to find the coast road-without being observed-and wait in ambush according to what facilities the roadside offered for concealment. If and when they secured a prisoner, they were to make their way back to the ship independently of Gifford's party. Every effort was to be made to avoid leading the enemy to the beach or otherwise giving away the presence of a British ship.
Tod Beamish (who made one of the launch's crew) carried a small bag slung round his shoulders containing two carefully prepared gags and several short lengths of line for binding the prisoner. Septimus had added an idea of his own by getting the gunner's mate to provide him with a narrow canvas sleeve eighteen inches long and three inches wide. When Mr. Preece asked him what it was for, he replied that prisoners might make a lot of noise even if they were gagged, which made Mr. Preece scratch his grizzled head in bewilderment.