A Brig of War

they had become close in the succeeding weeks.

Lord Dungarth had pleaded his own cause and requested that a Mr Dalziell be found a place as midshipman. It was soon apparent why the earl had not sent the youth to a crack frigate, whatever the obligation he owed the Dalziell family. Griffiths sighed; Mr Dalziell was fortunately small beer and unlikely to cause him great loss of sleep, but he could not escape a sense of exasperation at having been saddled with such a make-weight. He poured more coffee as Appleby drew to his conclusion.

'And so you see, sir, I am persuaded that the lively motion of such a vessel as this, though the buffetting one receives below decks is apt to give one a greater number of minor contusions than enough, is, however, likely to exercise more muscles in the body and invigorate the humours more than the leisurely motion of, say, a first rate. In the latter case the somnolent rhythms may induce a langour, and when coupled to the likelihood of the vessel being employed on blockade, hove to and so forth, actually contribute to that malaise and boredom that are the inevitable concomitants of that unenviable employment. Do you not agree sir?'

'Eh? Oh, undoubtedly you are right, Mr Appleby. But frankly I am driven to wonder to what purpose you men of science address your speculations.'

Appleby expelled his breath in an eloquent sigh. 'Ah well, sir, 'tis no great matter… how long d'you intend to stay here?'

'Just as long as it takes Mr Rogers to assist the people of Hecuba to get up a new foremast. Under the circumstances they did a wonderful job themselves, for in that sea there was no question of them securing a tow.'

'Ah! I was thinking about that, sir. Nathaniel was talking about using a rocket to convey a line. Now, if we could but…' Appleby broke off as Mr Q popped his head round the door.

'Beg pardon sir, but the captain of the Ra… Rag…'

'Ragusan,' prompted Griffiths.

'Yes, sir… well he's here sir.'

'Then show him in, boy, show him in.'

Griffiths summoned Drinkwater from sleep at noon. The tiny cabin that accommodated the brig's commander was strewn with charts and Lestock was in fussy attendance.

'Ah, Mr Drinkwater, please help yourself to a glass.' Griffiths indicated the decanter which contained his favourite sercial. As the lieutenant poured, Griffiths outlined the events of the morning.

'This mistral that prevented our getting up to Toulon has been a blessing in disguise…' Drinkwater saw Lestock nodding in sage agreement with his captain. 'The fact that we have had to run for shelter has likely saved us from falling into the hands of the French.'

Still tired, Drinkwater frowned with incomprehension. Nelson was blockading Toulon; what the devil was Griffiths driving at?

'The French are out, somewhere it is believed in the eastern Mediterranean. That polaccra spoke with Admiral Nelson off Cape Passaro on June the twenty-second… two weeks ago. He's bound to Barcelona and was quizzed by the admiral about the whereabouts of the French armada.'

'Armada, sir? You mean an invasion force?'

Griffiths nodded. 'I do indeed, bach. Myndiawl, they've given Nelson the slip, see.'

'And did this Ragusan offer Sir Horatio any intelligence?'

'Indeed he did. The polaccra passed the entire force, heading east…'

'East? And Nelson's gone in pursuit?'

'Yes indeed. And we must follow.' Drinkwater digested the news, trying to make sense of it. East? All his professional life the Royal Navy had guarded against a combination of naval forces in the Channel. His entire service aboard Kestrel had been devoted to that end. Indeed his motives for entering the service in the first place had had their inspiration in the Franco-Spanish attempt of 1779 which, to the shame of the navy, had so nearly succeeded. East? It did not make sense unless it was an elaborate feint, the French buying time to exercise in the eastern Mediterranean. If that were the case they might draw Nelson after them — such an impetuous officer would not hold back — and then they might turn west, slip through the Straits, clear St Vincent from before Cadiz and join forces with the Spanish fleet.

'Did our informant say who commanded them, sir?' he asked.

'No less a person than Bonaparte,' said Lestock solemnly.

'Bonaparte? But we read in the newspapers that Bonaparte commanded the Army of England… I remember Appleby jesting that the English Army had long wanted a general officer of his talent.'

'Mr Appleby's joke seems to have curdled, Mr Drinkwater,' said Lestock without a smile. Drinkwater turned to Griffiths.

'You say you'll follow Nelson, sir, to what rendezvous?'

'What do you suggest, Mr Drinkwater? Mr Lestock?'

Lestock fidgetted. 'Well, sir, I er, I think that in the absence of a rendezvous with the admiral we ought to proceed to, er…'

'Malta, sir,' said Drinkwater abruptly, 'then if the French double for the Atlantic we might be placed there with advantage, on the other hand there will doubtless be some general orders for us there.'

'No, Mr Drinkwater. Your reasoning is sound but the Ragusan also told us that Malta had fallen to the French.' Griffiths put down his glass and bent over the charts, picking up the dividers to point with.

'We will proceed south and run through the Bonifacio Strait for Naples, there will likely be news there, or here at Messina, or here, at Syracuse,'

There was no news at Naples beyond that of Nelson's fleet having stopped there on 17th June, intelligence older than that from the polaccra. Griffiths would not anchor and all hands eyed the legendary port wistfully. The ochre colours of its palazzi and its tenements were lent a common and ethereal appeal by distance, and the onshore breeze enhanced a view given a haunting beauty beyond the blue waters of the bay by the backdrop of Vesuvius.

'God, but I'd dearly love a night of sport there,' mused Rogers, who had acquitted himself in re-rigging the Hecuba and now seemed of the opinion that he had earned at least one night of debauchery in the Neapolitan stews. Appleby, standing within earshot and aware of the three seamen grinning close by said, 'Then thank the lord you've a sane man to command your instincts, Mr Rogers. The Neapolitan pox is a virulent disease well-known for its intractability.'

Rogers paled at the sally and the three men coiled the falls of the royal halliards with uncommon haste.

Hellebore worked her way slowly south, past the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea and through the narrow Straits of Messina; but there was no further news of Nelson or the French.

On 16th July the convoy stood into the Bay of Syracuse to wood and water and to find a welcome for British ships. Through the good offices of the British Ambassador to the Court of the Two Sicilies, Sir William Hamilton, facilities were available to expedite the reprovisioning of units of the Royal Navy.

'It seems,' Griffiths said to his assembled officers, 'that Sir Horatio has considered the possibility of using Syracuse as a base. We must simply wait.'

They waited three days. Shortly before noon on the 19th the British fleet was in the offing and with the Leander in the van, came into Syracuse Harbour. By three minutes past three in the afternoon the fourteen ships of the line under the command of Rear Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson had anchored. Within an hour their boats swarmed over the blue waters of the bay, their crews carrying off wood and water, their pursers haggling in the market place for vegetables and beef.

Hellebore's boat pulled steadily through the throng of craft, augmented by local bumboats which traded hopefully with the fleet. Officers' servants were buying chickens for their masters' tables while a surreptitious trade in rot-gut liquor was being conducted through lower deck ports. The apparent confusion and bustle had an air of charged purpose about it and Drinkwater suppressed a feeling of almost childish excitement. Beside him Griffiths wore a stony expression, his leathery old face hanging in sad folds, the wisps of white hair escaping untidily from below the new, glazed cocked hat. Drinkwater felt a wave of sympathy for the old man with his one glittering epaulette. Griffiths had been at sea half a century; he had served in slavers as a mate before being pressed as a naval seaman. He was old enough, experienced enough and able enough to have