The Victory (44 page)

The one eye roved round the table, gathered in Weston and
passed on to Blackwood. 'Captain Weston, Captain Black
wood, I am confident you will not let these gentry slip
through our fingers. You are the eyes of the fleet. I would to
God I had more frigates! I have written to Their Lordships on
the subject — I should like to have at least eight. But a man may survive with only
two
eyes ' — a comical look from the
Admiral, and more laughter and so for the moment must
the fleet. I will give you your individual orders later.'

‘Aye aye, my lord,' said Blackwood for both.

‘
If this combination of Boney's orders and our apparent absence can tempt the enemy out of port, I shall intercept
them between here and the Straits, and bring them to battle.

Now, as you know, they are around forty, and we are thirty-
three, and no day is long enough to arrange two fleets of that
size and fight a decisive battle according to the old system, in
two parallel lines broadside to broadside. This, therefore, is
what I propose.’

There was to be no formal manoeuvring for position, for the days were too short and the October weather too uncertain to be wasting time. They were to attack from whatever
course brought them most swiftly into gunshot of the enemy's
centre. The attack was to be made in two divisions, one under
Collingwood's command breaking the enemy's line about
twelve ships from the rear and overwhelming and rearguard,
while the other under Nelson attacked the centre of the
column. Thus the Admiral hoped they would have defeated two-thirds of the enemy fleet before its van could turn and
get into position to help the rear.

‘
There can be no hard-and-fast rules for the detailed
conduct of the battle, since we cannot know under what
conditions it will be fought. Something must be left to chance
— nothing is certain in a sea-fight. Each division must look
for instructions to its own commander; but in case signals can
neither be seen or perfectly understood, no captain can do
very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an enemy.
And finally, gentlemen, need I say that the battle cannot be
considered to be over so long as a single enemy ensign
remains flying?’

The response to the last question was unanimous, and the
captains cheered, applauded and tapped their glasses for fully five minutes before conversation was able to break out again,
and each man turned to his neighbours to discuss what he
had heard with eager approval.

‘
This plan of Nelson's it's singular — it's simple!' said
Hargood of the
Belleisle
on one side of Haworth. 'By Gad, it
must work, if they will only let us get at 'em!’

And Grindall on his other side rubbed his hands and said,
'If I can get my old haystack of a
Prince
up to them before
you fellows have polished them all off, I'll shew you how it's
done. You're a lucky man, Haworth, coming out from Ports
mouth with a newly refitted ship.'

‘You forget the two years I had sailing her
before
they
scraped her bottom,' Haworth grinned. 'Twice across the Atlantic with rotting spars and a wilderness of barnacles
below me!'

‘
Well, we shall have a pell-mell battle of it, after all this damn' dreary blockading,' said plump-faced, balding Cooke
of the
Bellerophon,
from across the table. 'It'll be like the Nile
over again, eh, Haworth? Our little admiral can pull a trick or
two out of the bag when it comes to it. Remember how we cut
the line then? Of course, they were at anchor, but the princi
ple's the same.'

‘
By Gad, there's a man who inspires confidence!' Hargood
burst out with an admiring glance at Nelson. 'He makes you
feel like a personal friend. He makes you feel you could do
anything he asks. The port's with you, Haworth.'

‘
But will the French come out?' Haworth said, filling his
glass and passing the decanter. 'Our being out of sight won't
convince Villeneuve that we've gone. He knows that trick
from Toulon, and he's never shewn much of a desire to fight
us.'

‘
But one thing we do know about Villeneuve,' Grindall
pointed out, 'is that he obeys orders. You have to, when it's
Boney giving 'em. And if he's been told to sail, then he will.
The only question is: when?'

‘
The sooner the better,' Hargood growled. 'I'm damned if I want to spend another winter in the western approaches. I've
got a wife at home.’

Murmurs of agreement: they all had wives at home.

‘
Well, then, gentlemen,' said Grindall, lifting his glass, 'may
the Frogs hoist their topsails without delay!'

‘Amen to that:' said Cooke feelingly.

*

On 19 October, Weston was on deck
at
dawn. He had been
unable to sleep, dreaming fitfully of post-chaises and hurried
journeys to London, and of frantic searchings in the pockets
of the coach for something he had mislaid. The wind had
changed last evening, swinging round from the south-east to
the north-east, and had remained light but steady all night.

Without calling for Bates he got up, dressed himself, and
went on deck. They were close inshore, along with
Euryalus,
the sloop
Weazle
and the tiny schooner
Pickle.
Out on the
horizon, just visible as the first light touched her topgallants,
was the
Sirius;
and beyond her, out of sight, the
Phoebe
and
the
Naiad.
These were the extra frigates the Admiralty had
sent in response to Nelson's request. Beyond
Naiad
were the
ships
Defence, Colossus,
and
Mars,
each visible only to the
next in the chain, between them covering the fifty miles of sea
between Cadiz and the main fleet. Thus from ship to ship a message could be passed, by means of Popham's wonderful
new flag system, from
Nemesis
to
Victory
and back again,
without their ever sighting each other.

If a message were ever to become necessary, Weston added
inwardly. So far they had had nothing to say to the admiral
but 'situation unchanged'. Osborne, the first officer, touched
his hat as Weston reached the quarterdeck. Weston returned
the compliment, and walked to the port-side taffrail and
looked towards the shore. The sun was just coming up. They were so close inshore that Weston could see the quiet waves
breaking on the beach, and smell, over the tar and salt and
hemp of the ship, the damp morning freshness of the land.

There was the city of Cadiz, built on the spit of land which
enclosed the bay. The sun, as yet still unseen, was gilding the
tips of her square towers and battlements, while the lovely
white walls to seaward were in deep shadow. Beyond the town
was the forest of spars which was the Combined, at anchor in
the harbour, safe and untouchable, except by plague,
shortage, and depression. Weston drew in a deep breath and
was about to turn away when a movement called his eye, and
he stiffened.

‘
Osborne, your glass,' he said urgently. He trained the
telescope on the enemy fleet. Surely there was movement?
Yes, those were men going up the ratlines. 'Masthead!' he
yelled. 'What do you make of the enemy?’

The voice came back so quickly that he guessed the man
had been on the point of hailing. 'Enemy hoisting their
tops'ls, sir!'

‘
By God, sir —!' Osborne said, and broke off, his excite
ment too deep for words. Could this be it? Were they about to
come out at last? Five minutes later, Weston could see it for himself. 'Mr
Osborne,' he said, his eye still glued to the glass. 'Signal
to
Euryalus —
Enemy are hoisting their topsails.'

‘Aye aye, sir.’

Blackwood was the senior captain, and in command of the inshore squadron. He would decide what to do with the infor
mation.

‘
Euryalus
acknowledges, sir.'

‘
Very good. Send a midshipman aloft with a glass, if you
please, to help the lookout. Who has good eyesight?’

 
‘
Reid is the best of 'em, sir.'

‘Very well. Pass the word for Mr Reid.’

The gangling young Scotsman came hurrying on deck in great excitement, his clothes awry and his cheeks and chin
stubbled with gold like a newly-harvested wheatfield. He
clattered to a halt before his captain, shrugging his right arm
into his pea-jacket and saluting all in the same movement.

‘
Mr Reid, it looks as though we may have something to
report to the admiral at last. I want a sharp pair of eyes at the
foretop. I want to know everything the enemy does, every
detail, however small. Understood?'

‘Aye aye, sir!' said Reid fervently.

‘Take a glass then, and up with you.’

Reid dashed away, and before many minutes not only his,
but every glass in the ship was trained on the harbour.

The sun came up, dazzling gold in a pale sky, filling the
world with light so that the very air seemed luminous. Each
wave was a dark, glassy emerald on one side, and slicked with
gold on the other, running peacefully towards the shore.
Weston watched a seagull, almost close enough to touch,
hanging on the invisible air, keeping pace with the
Nemesis
while it tilted its head this way and that, its bright black eye
like a bead of polished jet. The sunlight streamed through its
spread tail-feathers, dazzling white and gold, as it rocked on a
gentle gust of wind, and then, with one effortless beat, it
soared away into the lambent sky.

It was difficult to look eastwards into the light, but even so,
the observers saw topsail after topsail being hoist and then
unfurled. There was no doubt of it: taking advantage of the
light but favourable wind, the enemy was moving at last. As
long as they weren't frightened off, Weston prayed fervently.

They must be able to see
Nemesis
keeping her insolent watch
just outside the harbour, and probably
Euryalus
and
Weazle
as
well, but the other frigates ought to be out of sight of the
land, and
Pickle
was probably too small for them to pick out
from the surrounding dazzle. They must be hoping to get
away, as they did from Toulon, and lose themselves in the
vastness of the ocean before the inshore vessels could summon
help. What they could not know, was that this time the
frigates need never leave them to report to the admiral.