The Victory (33 page)

To her astonishment, he grinned. 'Just like any poor
officer's wife, eh, Luce? You're going to tuck yourself into some lodging-house run by a fisherman's widow, and walk
down to the harbour every day to look for sails on the
horizon?'

‘
I suppose so, except that it will be the largest suite in the
most comfortable inn I can find,' she replied. 'I'm sorry,
Chetwyn.'

‘
Don't be. I expect I'd do the same if I were you,' he said,
standing up. 'Are you leaving at once, or will you be here for dinner? Because if you won't be, I think I'll take Rob to dine at Brooks's. He wants me to put him up for membership, and
it would be as well to introduce him to some of the more
influential members.'

‘
No, I shan't be here,' Lucy said vaguely, astonished at the
change in his attitude. He didn't mind about her wanting to
be near Weston; he didn't much care, it was evident, about
the threat of invasion; he wasn't in the least worried about
the turmoil in the City. He was simply looking forward to
dining at his club with a friend.

‘
I'll leave you to pack,' he said, heading for the door.
‘Come and say goodbye before you leave, won't you?’

The door closed behind him, and Lucy turned to meet
Docwra's almost equally perplexed gaze.

‘
Sure God, I think I liked him better the other way,' said
Docwra.

 
At the beginning of April, Nelson's squadron was in the Gulf
of Palmas, off the southern tip of Sardinia, where they had
arranged to rendezvous with the storeships from Malta. On 3
April the frigate
Phoebe
arrived from Toulon to report that
Villeneuve's fleet, eleven of the line and six frigates, had
cleared the roads at sunset on 30 March, heading south, as if
to pass down the eastern side of the Balearic islands.

On this course, Nelson reminded his assembled captains in
the stern cabin on the
Victory,
it was probable that the east
ern Mediterranean was Villeneuve's objective. 'Naples, Sicily,
Malta, or Egypt, gentlemen? They are all vulnerable: the
question is, which?’

No-one spoke, but each man consulted the map of the
Mediterranean which by now was engraved on his mind.
Many, like Haworth, had served here in the last war too, and
all had patrolled every mile of it for far too long.

‘
I'm not going further east than Sicily, or further west than
Sardinia, until I know something more certain,' Nelson
concluded. 'The narrowest part of the route to the east is the channel between Tunisia and the south-western tip of Sicily.
The capital ships will patrol that area, while the frigates cover
the channel between Tunis and Sardinia. That way, there's
no possibility they can elude us.’

Day after day aboard the
Cetus,
Captain Haworth subdued
his doubts as he cruised up and down the Sicilian channel
without sight or sign of the French. The pattern was becom
ing horribly familiar.

‘
It's just like last time, Papa,' Africa said unhelpfully. 'Do
you think the French have gone back into harbour again?’

 
‘
There's been no storm this time, my love,' he replied
steadily. 'You must remember the French sail more slowly
than we do, because they aren't used to being at sea. I expect
they'll appear any day now.'

‘It's been nearly four weeks since they left Toulon,' Africa
pointed out. 'I don't think they're coming at all. Papa, may I
take my sewing up on the fo'c'sl, and sit with Blind Billy? He promised to tell me a story about a mermaid.’

It was not until 16 April that another sail was sighted. It
was a single merchantman, whose captain reported to the
admiral that some French ships had been seen leaving
Cartagena on the 6th, heading south-west. Signals rushed
up the halliards, and the squadron was ordered to set sail
north-westward, first to make sure the French fleet
had not returned to Toulon, and then to check on the Spanish
coast.

They were no sooner under way than the wind turned dead
foul, and for three days they could only struggle to hold their
position, making no headway. On the 19th they were met by a
brig sent out of Gibraltar to find them, to tell them that Ville
neuve's fleet had passed westwards through the straits on the
9th, ten days earlier, and had been joined by the Spanish
admiral Gravina's five ships out of Cadiz.

Once again the captains were called on board the
Victory
to
hear the news and receive their orders.

‘
We are heading west, gentlemen. Evidently the enemy is
making for the Atlantic, but thereafter, his objective might be
one of many.'

‘
Ireland, my lord?' suggested Keats of the
Superb.
'They
might be planning a landing. We know they have troops on
board.' And Ireland, always in a state of barely controlled
ferment, was a useful back door into England.

‘
It may be Ireland; but then again they may be intending to join Ganteaume at Brest. We must cover both eventualities. I
am sending the
Amazon
to Lisbon to try to obtain more in
formation. Meanwhile the eleven ships of the line will head
for Cape St Vincent, join up with the
Amazon
there, and
unless we have further news, we'll take up position to the west
of the Scillies, where we can intercept the French whether
they head for Ireland or Brest.'

‘And the frigates, sir?' asked one of the commanders.

‘
They are to remain here, patrolling the channel between
Tunis and Sardinia, to intercept any expedition the French
may send against Egypt.’

Haworth and Pellew of the
Conqueror
exchanged a glance
at that. Still hankering after Egypt! was the thought in both
their minds.

The captains returned to their own ships, and there was a
flurry of activity as boats were sent off to the
Amazon
with all
the letters for home. The wind had backed just sufficiently for
them to get under way, and the
Amazon
was soon hull-down
of them, moving several knots faster than the best of the
ships, and three times as fast as the poor old
Superb,
which
was heavily fouled and in dire need of a refit.

But before they had gone twenty miles, the fluky wind
veered dead foul again. It was one thing to plan a strategy,
and quite another to put it into effect, and while London was
seething with panic, and demanding to know where Nelson
was, the Toulon squadron was struggling slowly towards
Gibraltar, unable to reach the Rock until 7 May. Here the
news greeted them that Villeneuve was on course for the
Caribbean.

With home waters protected by Cornwallis's and Keith's
forty ships, and the West Indian possessions only by the small
force Cochrane had taken in pursuit of Villeneuve, there was
at last a clear choice for Nelson. The ships renewed their
stores, and the Admiral interviewed his captains.

‘
Though we are late, yet chance may give them a bad
passage, and us a good one. The wind is favourable, and we
must hope for the best. In any case, even if we don't find the combined fleet, we can be back in home waters by the end of
June, before the enemy finds out where we are.’

They had been at sea for almost two years continuously, and most of the ships needed a refit; but the crews were in
good health and spirits, with the most experienced officers in
the world to command them. They set sail at seven in the
evening of 11 May to pursue Villeneuve across the Atlantic.
There was a fine following wind, and with studding sails set,
even the old
Superb
logged six knots.

During the voyage, the Admiral issued to the captains his
fighting instructions, in case they should manage to bring the
combined fleet to battle. As at the battle of the Nile, the
English numbers would be smaller than the enemy's, and the
instructions were essentially the same: to break the enemy
line, concentrate the attack on one part of it, and overwhelm it before dealing with the remainder.

The crews were excited at the prospect of action, and
skylarked about their daily routines. It was exhilarating to run free at last, with every sail set, leaping over a blue sea
under blue skies. Africa spent most of each day on the fo'c'sl,
watching the white water as it broke dazzlingly against the
forefoot; gazing out at the horizon, where the frigates scouted
ahead, like flecks of foam against the rim of the world;
exclaiming with excitement at her first sight of a school of
dolphins; and in the dogwatches, learning to dance the horn
pipe, barefoot on the warm deck boards, and singing songs
about the great sea-battles of the past as they sailed steadily
towards the setting sun.

*

The month of May was a nervous one in England, for with
two enemy squadrons and one English one missing, and signs
daily at Brest that Admiral Ganteaume was preparing to come out, it was hard for anyone to know what to do. It
seemed that the man with the most responsibility in the case
— the First Lord, now elevated to the peerage as Lord
Barham — was the least agitated, as he gave his orders,
adapting them daily to the new circumstances as news and
rumours dribbled in.

It was the same sort of nervousness which had driven Lucy
down to Plymouth, where she had installed herself at the
George. Docwra had been prepared to see her mistress fret
ting herself into an illness, but fortunately she had the
company of Admiral Collingwod for part of the time, as he
prepared a squadron for sea, and was delayed first by storms
and then by conflicting orders.

In the middle of the month, Jofin Anstey drove down from
London with his eldest son, aged nine, whom Collingwood
had now agreed to take into his ship. When he had delivered
the boy on board, he called on Lucy, and was invited most
pressingly to stay to dinner.

‘
Stirring times to be going to sea,' Lucy commented, when
Anstey told her about little John. 'I can't tell you how I envy him.'