He heaved a great round-shouldered sigh and scrubbed at his massy chin in thought, trying to conjure a way in which to remain concentrated for a sea-fight, which he was pretty sure he would win should it come. British Tars were unequaled, and his own ships, even at bad odds, he was certain, could still outsail, outmanoeuvre and outfight the poorly practiced French. He must remain strong, yet fulfill
'Excuse me, Sir John,' his harassed flag-captain interrupted, 'but Captain Charlton has come aboard as you bid, and is without.'
'Hah!' Sir John harrumphed, with very little evidence of pleasure. But then, 'Old Jarvy' had never been very big on Pleasure. 'Very good, sir, send him in.'
Another of Hotham's. 'Old Jarvy' frowned from behind his desk in his day-cabin as Captain Thomas Charlton entered. He'd never met this fellow, even in peacetime service when the Royal Navy was reduced to quarter- strength. Good enough record, he'd found, but nothing particularly distinguished since the American War. Good patrons, Charlton had, though; even if Hotham
'Thomas Charlton, come aboard as directed, sir,' the man piped up, with just more than a touch of cool wariness to his voice. 'Old Jarvy' was one of the sternest disciplinarians in the Fleet, known for a volcanic temper when aroused. Known for using a hatchet when a penknife would suit others, too, when it came to dealing with those who'd irked him. Charlton reviewed his recent past;
'Captain Charlton, well met, sir. Take a seat. And I will have a glass with you,' Sir John Jervis offered, almost sounding affable.
With a well-concealed sigh of relief, Captain Charlton sat, his gold-laced hat in his lap, happy that it wouldn't be
A few minutes of social prosing, enquiries about acquaintances, even a politic question as to his predecessor Admiral Hotham's newest posting; then Sir John put the situation before Charlton, liking what first impression he'd drawn of the man.
Not that he had that much choice; those senior post-captains he knew well enough to trust, some of whom he'd stood 'sea-daddy' to, or those he'd learned he could trust with responsibility once he'd taken command, were already busy about his, and their King's, business. He counted himself fortunate that he'd found another he could trust; much like turning over a mossy rock and
Charlton was nearly six feet tall, a little above middle height; a slim and wiry sort, most-like possessed of a spare appetite and a spartan constitution. Most captains in their late forties went all suety, to 'tripes and trullibubs' from too many grand suppers and the arrival of modest wealth and good pay, at last.
A lean, intelligent face, well weathered by wind, sea and sun. He wore his own hair instead of a side-curl wig, which was wiry, going to grey the slightest bit, though like most well-to-do Englishmen who could boast membership in the Squirearchy, that class which led regiments, captained the King's Ships, or sat in Parliament (as Jervis had) Charlton still owned a full head of it. A very regular, sturdy sort was Charlton; salt of the earth. Or salt of the sea. His brown eyes sparkled with clear-headed wit, and his brow hinted at a cleverness, an ability to extemporise, should duty call for it. Well, not
'I expect Admiral Man's arrival weekly, d'ye see, sir,' Sir John told him. 'Eight more sail of the line, and several more frigates. Relying on the promise of his reinforcement by Our Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, I may now make such dispositions which I've had planned for some time. Such as keeping a squadron far west, to keep an eye on the Straits of Gibraltar. And the Dons. I cannot imagine a
'Perhaps Spain 's long-term hatred for us outweighs their hatred for the Revolution, Sir John?' Captain Charlton posed. 'There's our possession of Spanish soil at Gibraltar.'
'Aye,' Sir John said with an appreciative smile-his first that was not merely polite-thinking that his choice for an onerous and fraught-with-danger mission would turn out to be a sensible captain, after all. Even if his voice was a little too nasal, and Oxonian 'plumby' in local accent. He sounded more House of Lords than House of Commons, where
'Have you any Italian, sir?' Sir John pressed. 'Or German?'
'A smattering of both, Sir John.' Charlton frowned in puzzlement.
'Capital!' Jervis actually beamed. 'Simply capital! As for the necessity, now sir… with Genoa gone, and the Austrian army far inland, we cannot cooperate with them, nor communicate. There is the matter of Vado Bay, where…'
'They ran like rabbits, Sir John?' Charlton dared interpose.
Jervis nodded. 'Hence, no way to ship them the cash subsidies to fund their armies on the Rhine or in Italy. The Austrian Netherlands are lost, the Dutch and their navy are now French allies, and block the route down the Rhine, or overland through the Germanies. The only port left open to Austria is Trieste, on the Adriatic.'
'I
But what Sir John Jervis was offering him was a
'You're to have a squadron, Captain Charlton,' Sir John said, as if in answer to his every dream, that instant! 'A thin 'un, given the paucity of bottoms we have at present, but a squadron nonetheless. It cannot come with a proper broad-pendant, I fear. That's the leap in rank reserved for Our Lords Commissioners to decide.'
Of course, Charlton realised, deflating a little, though hiding his disappointment as well as he'd concealed his enthusiasm. An English gentleman was
'There's your
'A most felicitous choice, Sir John; thankee,' Charlton said with a broad grin.
'Aye, her captain s known to you,' Jervis stated, very flatly.
An admiral departing a foreign station was allowed several few promotions without Admiralty approval; one Midshipman to Lieutenant, without having to face an Examining Board of post-captains; one Lieutenant to