Any Approaching Enemy: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (31 page)

“I still do not wish thee to go on to Egypt,” she said. “I wish thee to return home to heal thy injury.”

“I appreciate your concern,” he answered. “Under other circumstances, I would consider it. Please understand that I must do this. There is no one who can take my place.”

“I understand perfectly,” Penny said, unsmiling. “But I do not agree.”

“Then those are the terms on which we must part,” Charles said stiffly. “Please hold up Claudette so that I may say good-bye to her.”

Penny bent, hoisted the child into her arms, and straightened. “
Au
revoir,
my little one,” Charles said. He carefully leaned forward from the waist and kissed the child on her cheek. “Be a good girl for Mama.”

“Gud-bye, Sharrle,” Claudette said with a small tear in the corner of her eye. She held out her arms to embrace him. Charles leaned a little farther forward, which brought a pain from his wounded side. He held the pose for only a minute, with the child’s arms around his neck, before, with a sharp intake of breath, he pulled away.

“I must return to my ship and you to England,” Charles said to Penny, unhappy at the tension between them. Not knowing what to do or say, he nodded to her, then turned toward the chair in which he would be swayed over the rail and back down into
Louisa
’s cutter, waiting alongside.

Penny placed Claudette back on the deck and came after him. He stopped. “Charles Edgemont,” she whispered, taking his arm, “go and do what thou must do. Take my tenderness and caring with thee. Know that my heart goest where thou goest. I will look for thy return when thou art free to do so.”

Charles put his arm around her and held her close. “Never doubt that I love you more than anything on earth,” he said. He stepped to the chair, sat carefully, and signaled that he be hoisted away.

ELEVEN

“EVERY STITCH OF CANVAS SHE’LL CARRY, DANIEL,” Charles said as soon as he was set down on Louisa’s deck. “East-by-southeast.”

“East-by-southeast, if you please, Mr. Eliot,” Bevan said, leaning on his crutch.

“Aye, Mr. Bevan,” Eliot answered with a broad smile. “And, may I say, it’s good to have you back. It’s like old times, to my way of thinking.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Bevan said. “Besides which, someone has to see to it that you tend to your duties.”

Charles did not find himself in the mood for lighthearted banter. He’d slept little the night before due to the pain along his ribs, which now throbbed as if someone were trying to drive a spike into his side with a mallet. He looked forward and saw Keswick blow on his call, signaling the topmen aloft to let fall the canvas. The waisters soon came pounding up the ladderways to take their places on the halyards and clew lines. Amid the immaculately organized confusion, the sails billowed down like descending curtains, to be tautened and braced around to catch the breeze. Almost immediately, he felt the deck begin to move beneath his feet. With a strong, steady westerly wind on her starboard quarter,
Louisa
would fly.

Feeling satisfied but drained, he walked to the port side rail and looked outward. He saw
Embuscade
already sliding rearward, a half cable’s length away. He picked out Penny behind the railing and raised his hat to wave it. Penny waved back, then bent to lift Claudette so that she could see. “Write to me,” Charles started to shout, but filling his lungs for the effort brought a jolt of pain. “Write,” he muttered to himself as the frigate, the almost mastless
Pylades
in tow, drifted farther and farther astern. As the figures on
Embuscade
’s quarterdeck grew indistinguishable, he replaced his hat. A kind of emptiness came over him.

“I’m going below, Daniel,” he said. “Call me for any reason you think necessary.”

“All right, Charlie,” Bevan said, then tilted his head skyward to study the set of the sails above.

Comfortable at least that his ship was in good hands, Charles descended the ladderway, placing his feet one at a time on the steps and holding tightly to the rail with his right hand. He acknowledged the sentry at the door and passed into his cabin. “Attwater,” he called wearily.

“Yes, sir?” his steward answered, emerging from the small room to the side where his bed hung.

“Help me with my coat, will you? I can’t seem to manage.”

With Attwater’s assistance, Charles pulled his right arm out of its sleeve but had to have the garment lowered to slide below his left arm, which hung more or less uselessly by his side. He found he could move the limb if he had to, but doing so brought a sharp protest from his damaged muscles. Without prompting, Attwater unbuckled the belt that held Charles’s sword and hung it from its peg on the bulkhead.

“It ain’t the same without Mrs. Edgemont not being here, ain’t it, sir,” his steward said.

“No,” Charles said, guessing that was the answer Attwater wanted.

“Can’t I get you a mug of coffee?” Attwater asked, clearly trying to be cheerful.

“Thank you, no. I only want to rest.” Charles pushed a chair back from the table with his foot and lowered himself carefully into it.

“I’ll just fetch you a bowl of nice ’ot soup, then. Don’t you need something in you.”

“It’s not necessary,” Charles said. “I’m not hungry. I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

“I’ll get the soup anyway, and some biscuit,” Attwater insisted. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’ve lost a mess of blood, and ain’t you as pale as a sheet. I won’t be a minute.”

Charles was too tired to argue. “Fine,” he said.

With his servant departed, he took a look around the cabin. The room seemed oppressively empty and quiet with Penny and Claudette and all their things gone. He half expected to see his wife emerge from the sleeping cabin or to hear the child’s excited giggles. He raised his right hand off the table and wiggled his fingers as if to tickle, but no sounds came.

When Attwater returned, Charles obediently ate his soup and drank a tankard of small beer. “Didn’t Mrs. Edgemont not order me to see that you don’t get your nourishment and your rest,” the steward told him at least a half-dozen times. From the way that Attwater went on, Charles decided Penny must have put the fear of God into him on the subject. The thought improved his spirits. Afterward, he allowed himself to be helped into his bed and was asleep before Attwater had his shoes off.

LOUISA DID FLY over the seemingly vast, unbounded sea. With an unvarying westerly wind, she made twelve and even thirteen knots, by the casting of the log, hour by hour and day by day. They shortened sail only at night after the third day, for fear they might run upon the stern of one of the lumbering seventy-fours in the darkness, or else pass them completely by.

Charles and Bevan soon resumed their long-established and easy relationship. Sometimes, Charles thought, it was as if Bevan had never been gone. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he hobbled across the deck on his crutch and one good leg to bellow out orders or point to some deficiency of workmanship. Then he would hobble back to rest on a chair lashed to a ringbolt near the wheel and offer good-humored comments about whatever entered his mind. Except, Charles knew, when his memories of Molly intruded. Then he would stare silently out at the sea until a new object for his attention presented itself.

As they ran, they made repairs to damage inflicted during the boarding of
Embuscade
and the final touches to the rigging. By the fourth day, thanks to Bevan’s efforts,
Louisa
was as trim and shipshape as she had ever been. Charles found that he took no small pleasure in looking at her when everything was proper and in its place. She was a beautiful, living presence, with a spirit of her own. Gradually, his strength began to return, so he spent longer hours on deck, although he could still not do anything strenuous involving his left side or arm. Getting up from a chair or sitting down was also an adventure best engaged in cautiously. To lower himself into bed, he welcomed assistance.

He and Bevan took to having their suppers together most evenings, which helped assuage the emptiness left by Penny’s departure. One evening when the two men were alone in the cabin, Charles asked his friend how he was getting along.

“You mean my leg?” Bevan said. “It gets a little better day by day.”

“No,” Charles said. “I mean without Molly. How are you getting along with Molly gone?”

“Oh, yes,” Bevan answered, looking out through the stern windows. “I miss her, of course. I miss her badly. But you know, your life is what it is. You decide for yourself whether it makes you happy or sad. She always said, ‘Your life ain’t nothing if you ain’t happy in it.’ I’m not happy that she’s gone. I’m blessed that I knew her.”

On their fifth day, shortly after noon, a cry came down from the lookout in the fore crosstrees: “Deck there. I see sails two points to starboard off the for’ard bow.”

“Ask him how many,” Charles said to Bevan. To Eliot he said, “Two points to starboard, if you please.”

Bevan bellowed up into the tops. The lookout answered hesitantly, “I can just see their t’gallants, zur. I see two … might be three … I see more, could be any number.”

“That’ll be Nelson, unless I miss my guess,” Charles said. “Mr. Sykes, would you see to the hoisting of the recognition signal, please.”

Within the hour, the lookout had counted fifteen sail, thirteen of them ships of the line. The recognition signal had been answered and another set of flags, relayed by the rearmost seventy-four, ordered them to close on the flagship. Charles could just see the distant white rectangles each time
Louisa
’s stern rose on the crest of a wave. By the end of the afternoon watch, the ponderous warships were visible from their hulls up, mountains of canvas on their masts, the fleet spread over the now-crowded horizon.

As they passed
Majestic
to port, Charles saw the figure of Captain Westcott on her quarterdeck and raised his hat. Westcott waved his own in return.
Vanguard
was visible several ships ahead.

Charles nodded to Beechum in the waist, and the first gun of the salute to the rear admiral’s flag boomed out. On the count of five, the second cannon fired its powder charge and lurched inward. Then the third. On the thirteenth gun of the salute, signal bunting soared up the flagship’s halyards. Charles knew what it said; he’d expected it.

“Captain to report on board,”
Bevan observed.

“Yes,” Charles said. “Prepare to heave to and have the gig hoisted out.” He tested his left arm tentatively. It was growing stronger daily, but he didn’t want to stress it. “I think I’d best be lowered down in a sling.”

“A sorry lot we are,” Bevan said, thumping his crutch on the deck. “Two old cripples.” Charles smiled.

Vanguard
took in most of her sails, came to, and laid her fore topsail against its mast. Charles’s gig skipped across the water to come to a halt under the two-decker’s tall side, where they found a chair swung down from the main yardarm. “Must have seen you needed assistance getting down to yer boat,” Williams observed.

“I expect you’re right,” Charles said, seating himself. “Please wait alongside. I don’t think I’ll be long.”

“Captain Edgemont,” Admiral Nelson greeted him as he was set down on the deck. “I see that you are impaired, sir. I trust it is not serious.”

“More painful than serious, sir,” Charles said, touching his hat. “We were obliged to board a French frigate upon leaving Syracuse harbor. I’ve prepared a report on the incident.” He removed an envelope from his coat pocket and held it out.

“My word,” Nelson said. “I’ll read it later, if you agree.” He took the paper and waved it in front of him. “Does this require any action on my part?”

“No, sir,” Charles said. “I’ve sent the prize on to Gibraltar with
Pylades.
”

Nelson pocketed the document. “I shall certainly read it as soon as I am able,” he said. “But for now we’ve only the moment. I make it that we are two days out from Alexandria. I thought it important to acquaint you with my thinking for the coming battle.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said.

“I intend to keep my fleet in tight order and fall upon the French the moment we sight them. It doesn’t matter what time of day or under what conditions. I’ll not give them additional time to prepare.” The admiral seemed genuinely excited by the prospect.

“Yes, sir. I see.”

“How we engage will of course depend upon their disposition. I’ve no doubt they will be well aligned. My preference is to break their line and double the near part so as to destroy them piecemeal, but we shall have to see what they offer. I also have no doubt,” Nelson continued, his good eye shining, “that our little band of brothers—as I have termed the captains of this squadron, including yourself, sir—will be more than adequate for any eventuality.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said. “Of course.”

“I haven’t had time to put your orders in writing,” the admiral hurried on. “I’ll give them to you direct.
Louisa
will take station well forward of the squadron. I should think five or six leagues so that you are just within signaling range. Once you sight their battle fleet, you will note how they have arranged themselves in such detail as you are able, then return to
Vanguard
to report. Is that clear, Captain?”

“I understand, sir,” Charles answered. It seemed straightforward enough.

“Good, good,” Nelson said. “I will not detain you further.” He looked at Charles again with concern. “You’re sure that you are fit?”

“I’m as fit as I need to be, sir,” Charles answered firmly.

“I have every confidence in your abilities,” Nelson said, taking Charles by the arm and walking with him to the chair. As Charles settled himself in before being lifted off, the admiral added, “Oh, yes, one last thing. How has Lieutenant Talmage acquitted himself? Appropriately, I trust. Or do I need to intervene?”

Charles met Nelson’s eye. “Mr. Talmage died of injuries he received during the taking of the frigate, sir. He acquitted himself with both honor and valor.”

Nelson had no visible reaction to this.

With Charles back on board,
Louisa
soon passed easily through the heavy, slow-moving line of battleships with their twin parallel rows of gunports. Many of them were left open for ventilation, the hollow circles of their cannon mouths visible behind. The men at the railings or in the rigging waved their greetings as she slid effortlessly onward.
Louisa
’s crew happily returned the sentiment. Charles raised his hat to acknowledge the similar gestures of the warships’ officers. Toward the end of the afternoon watch, they came to their assigned position, with the topsails of the leading ships of the squadron just visible from the masthead. Charles ordered the courses taken in so as not to outpace the squadron completely. He began to turn his mind toward the orders he had received and what he might expect when they reached Alexandria.

“Mr. Eliot,” he said, approaching the sailing master.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do we still have the charts from that Frenchman we took off Rosetta? You know, the one we burned.”

“Aye, from
Félicité.
I have them below.”

“Were there any for Alexandria, showing the port and the roads?”

Eliot rubbed his chin in contemplation. “There’s the one with the port and the coast a fair distance in each direction. As far as Rosetta itself, if I recall. It’s possibly the only such chart in the entire British navy.”

“Might I borrow it for a time?” Charles asked.

The master nodded. “I’ll just send one of my mates to get it for you.” After a moment, Jonathan Cleaves, the first master’s mate, returned with the neatly rolled tube of paper, bound with a piece of string.

Charles took the document and went below to his cabin, where he opened it on his dining table. After laying his sword along the top edge, he weighted the lower corners with books to keep it from rolling back up. He struggled out of his coat (managing unassisted) and sat down to see what he had.