1805

pleasant and he recalled Camelford's threats when he had prevented the shooting of the fishermen.

The castle was only a short walk from Deal beach. Many years ago he had gone there to receive orders for the rendezvous that had brought Hortense and then Edouard Santhonax into his life. On that occasion he had been received by Lord Dungarth, head of the Admiralty's intelligence service. To his astonishment it was Dungarth who met him again.

'My dear Nathaniel, how very good to see you. How are you?'

'Well enough, my Lord.' Drinkwater grinned with pleasure and accepted the offered glass of wine. 'I hope I find you in health?'

Dungarth sighed. 'As well as can be expected in these troubled times, though in truth things could not be much worse. Our hopes have been dashed and Bonaparte has reversed the Republic's principles without so much as a murmur from more than a handful of die-hards. Old Admiral Truguet has resigned at Brest and Ganteaume's taken over, but I believe this imperial nonsense will combine the French better than anything, and that shrewd devil Bonaparte knows it… But I did not get you here to gossip. Billy Pitt asks for you personally. You did well to get Camelford back in one piece.'

'It was nothing, my Lord…'

'Oh, I don't mean embarking him. He's a cantankerous devil; I'm surprised he hasn't challenged half your officers. His honour, what there is of it, is a damned touchy subject.'

'So I had gathered,' Drinkwater observed drily.

Dungarth laughed. 'I'm sure you had. Anyway his capture would have been an embarrassment, particularly with the change of government.'

'You said 'our hopes have been dashed', my Lord; might I assume that Bonaparte was not intended to live long enough to assume the purple?'

Dungarth's hazel eyes fixed Drinkwater with a shrewd glance. 'Wouldn't you say that Mr Pitt serves the most excellent port, Nathaniel?'

Drinkwater took the hint. 'Most excellent, my Lord.'

'And most necessary, gentlemen, most necessary…' A thin, youngish man entered the room and strode to the decanter. Drinkwater noticed that his clothes were carelessly worn, his stockings, for instance, appeared too large for him. He faced them, a full glass to his lips, and Drinkwater recognised the turned-up nose habitually caricatured by the cartoonists. 'So this is Captain Drinkwater, is it?'

'Indeed,' said Dungarth, making the introductions, 'Captain Drinkwater; the Prime Minister, Mr Pitt.'

Drinkwater bowed. 'Yours to command, sir.'

'Obliged, Captain,' said Pitt, inclining his head slightly and studying the naval officer. 'I wish to thank you for your forbearance. I think you know to what I allude.'

'It is most considerate of you, sir, to take the trouble. The service was a small one.' Drinkwater felt relief that the incident was to be made no more of.

Pitt smiled over the rim of his glass and Drinkwater saw how tired and sick his boyish face really was, prematurely aged by the enormous responsibilities of high office.

'He was the only midshipman that remained loyal to Riou when the Guardian struck an iceberg in the Southern Ocean,' said Pitt obliquely, as though this extenuated Camelford's behaviour. Drinkwater recalled Riou's epic struggle to keep the damaged Guardian afloat for nine weeks until she fetched Table Bay. The thought seemed to speak more of Riou's character than of Camelford's. 'Lord Dungarth assures me', Pitt went on, 'that I can rely upon your absolute discretion.'

So, Drinkwater mused as he bowed again and muttered, 'Of course, sir', it seemed that he had guessed correctly and that Pitt himself had sent his cousin into France to end Bonaparte's career.

But he was suddenly forced to consider more important matters.

'Good,' said Pitt, refilling his glass. 'And now, Captain, I wish to ask you something more. How seriously do you rate the prospects of invasion?'

The enormity of the question took Drinkwater aback. Even allowing for Pitt's recent resumption of office it seemed an extraordinary one. He shot a glance at Dungarth who nodded encouragingly.

'Well, sir, I do not know that I am a competent person to answer, but I believe their invasion craft capable of transporting a large body of troops. That they are encamped in sufficient force is well known. Their principal difficulty is in getting a great enough number of ships in the Strait here to overwhelm our own squadrons. If they could achieve that… but I am sure, sir, that their Lordships are better placed to advise you than I…'

'No, Captain. I ask you because you have just come in from a Channel cruise and your opinions are not entirely theoretical. I am told that the French cannot build barges capable of carrying troops. I do not believe that, so it is your observations that I wished for.'

'Very well, sir. I think the French might be capable of combining their fleet effectively. Their ships are not entirely despicable. If fortune gave them a lucky start and Nelson…' he broke off, flushing.

'Go on, Captain. 'If Nelson…''

'It is nothing, sir.'

'You were about to say: 'if Nelson maintains his blockade loosely enough to entice Latouche-Tréville out of Toulon for a battle, only to lose contact with him, matters might result in that combination of their fleets that you are apprehensive of.' Is that it?'

'It is a possibility talked of in the fleet, sir.'

'It is a possibility talked of elsewhere, sir,' observed Pitt with some asperity and looking at Dungarth. 'Nelson will be the death or the glory of us all. He let a French fleet escape him before Abukir. If he wasn't so damned keen on a battle, but kept close up on Toulon like Cornwallis at Brest…' Pitt broke off to refill his glass. 'So you think there is a chance of a French fleet entering the Channel?'

Drinkwater nodded. 'It is a remote one, sir. But the Combined Fleets of France and Spain did so in seventy- nine. They would have more chance of success if they went north about.'

'Round Scotland, d'you mean?'

'Yes, sir. There'd be less chance of detection,' said Drinkwater, warming to his subject and egged on by the appreciative expression on Dungarth's face. 'A descent upon the Strait of Dover from the North Sea would be quite possible and they could release the Dutch fleet en route. You could circumvent Cornwallis by…'

'A rendezvous in the West Indies, by God!' interrupted Pitt. 'Combine all your squadrons then lose yourself in the Atlantic for a month and reappear at our back door… Dungarth, d'you think it's possible?'

'Very possible, William, very possible, and also highly likely. The Emperor Napoleon has one hundred and seventy thousand men encamped just across the water there. I'd say that was just what he was intending.'

Pitt crossed the rich carpet to stare out of the window at the pale line of France on the distant horizon. The waters of the Strait lay between, blue and lovely in the sunshine beyond the bastions of the castle, dotted with the white sails of Keith's cruisers. Without turning round, Pitt dismissed Drinkwater.

'Thank you, Captain Drinkwater. I shall take note of your opinion.'

Dungarth saw him to the door. 'Thank you, Nathaniel,' the earl muttered confidentially, 'I believe your deductions to be absolutely correct.'

Drinkwater returned to his boat flattered by the veiled compliment from Dungarth and vaguely disturbed that his lordship, as head of the navy's intelligence service, needed a junior captain to make his case before the new Prime Minister.

Chapter Seven The Army of the Coasts of the Ocean

 June-July 1804

'Six minutes, Mr Rogers,' said Drinkwater pocketing his watch, 'very creditable. Now you may pipe the hands to dinner.'

The shifting of the three topsails had been accomplished in good time and the tide was just turning against