1805

Bucentaure.'

'Ah, and that man?' Drinkwater indicated a small, energetic officer with the epaulettes of a Capitaine de Vaisseu.

'Ah, that,' said Guillet in obvious admiration, 'is Capitaine Lucas of the Redoutable.'

'You obviously admire him, Lieutenant. Why is that?'

Guillet shrugged. 'He is a man most clever, and 'is crew and ship most, er, 'ow do you say it… er, very good?'

'Efficient?'

'Oui. That is right: efficient.'

Drinkwater turned away, Infernet was looking at him and he did not wish to draw attention to himself. He stared out over the crowded waters of Cadiz, the great battleships surrounded by small boats. He saw the massive hull of the four-decked Spanish ship Santissima Trinidad, 'That is the Santissima Trinidad, is it not?' Guillet nodded. 'She is Admiral Gravina's flagship?'

'No,' said Guillet, 'the Captain-General 'as 'is flag aboard the Principe de Asturias of one 'undred and twelve guns. The Santissima Trinidad flies the flag of Rear-Admiral Don Baltazar Cisneros. The ship moored next to 'er, she is the Rayo of one 'undred guns. She may interest you, Capitaine; she is commanded by Don Enrique Macdonnell. 'E is an Irish man who became a Spanish soldier to kill Englishmen. 'E fought in the Regimento de Hibernia against you when your American colonies bring their revolution. Later 'e is a sailor and when Gravina called for volunteers, Don Enrique comes to command the Rayo.'

'Most interesting. The Rayo is newly commissioned then?'

'Yes. And the ship next astern is the Neptuno. She is Spanish. We also 'ave the Neptune. She is', he looked round, 'there, alongside the Pluton…'

'We also have our Neptune, Lieutenant. She is commanded by Thomas Fremantle. He is rather partial to killing Frenchmen.' Drinkwater smiled. 'We also have our Swiftsure… but all this is most interesting…'

They spent the morning in this manner, talking always about ships and seamen, Drinkwater making mental notes and storing impressions of the final preparations of the Combined Fleet. He had a vague notion that they might be of value, yet was aware that he would find it impossible to pass them to his friends whose topsails, he knew, were visible from only a few feet up Bucentaure's rigging. But what was more curious was the strong conviction he had formed that it was Villeneuve himself who wished him to see all this.

A midday meal was served to Drinkwater in his dark and malodourous cabin. Eating alone he was reminded of his time as a midshipman in the equally stinking orlop of the British frigate Cyclops. The thought made him call for Gillespy. The only response was from the sentry, who put a finger to his lips and indicated the boy asleep in a corner of the orlop, curled where one of Bucentaure's massive futtocks met the deck.

Guillet did not reappear in the afternoon and, after lying down for an hour, Drinkwater rose. The ship had become strangely quiet, the disorder of the forenoon was gone. The sentry let him pass and he went on deck, passing a body of men milling in the lower and upper gun-decks. As he emerged into a watery sunshine he was aware of the admiral's flag at the masthead lifting to seawards; an easterly wind had come at last!

On the quarterdeck a reception party which included Captain Magendie, his officers and a military guard was welcoming a short, olive-skinned grandee with a long nose. He courteously swept his hat from his head in acknowledgement of the compliments done him, revealing neatly clubbed hair.

Lieutenant Guillet hurried across the deck and took Drinkwater's arm. 'Please, Capitaine, is it not for you to be 'ere now.'

'Who was that man, Lieutenant?' asked Drinkwater suffering himself to be hastened below.

'Don Frederico Gravina. Now, Capitaine, please you must go to your cabin and to stay.'

'Why?'

'Why, Mon Dieu, Capitaine, the order to sail, it is being made.' But the Combined Fleet did not sail. At four o'clock in the afternoon of 17th October the easterly wind fell away to a dead calm, and Drinkwater sat in his tiny cabin listening to the details of Mr Gillespy's family.

Chapter Twenty Nelson's Watch-Dogs

18-21 October 1805 

Drinkwater woke with the calling of Bucentaure's ship's company. He was denied the privilege of breakfasting with the officers and it was clear that he was not permitted to leave the hutch of a cabin he had been allocated. Nevertheless he was not required to be locked in, and by sitting in the cabin with a page of his journal before him he amused himself by getting Gillespy to attempt to deduce what was going on above them from the noises they could hear.

To a man who had spent most of his life on board ship this was not difficult, although for Gillespy the task, carried out in such difficult circumstances under the eye of his captain, proved an ordeal. There was a great deal of activity in the dark and stinking orlop deck. Further forward were the damp woollen curtains of the magazine and much of the forenoon was occupied by the barefoot padding past of the Bucentaure's powder monkeys as they scrambled below for the ready-made cartridges. These were supplied by the gunner and his mates whose disembodied hands appeared with their lethal packages through slits in the curtains. Parties of seamen were carrying up cannon balls from the shot lockers and from time to time a gun-captain came down to argue some technicality with the gunner. The junior officers, or aspirants, were also busy, running hither and thither on errands for the lieutenants and other officers.

'What do you remark as the most significant difference, Mr Gillespy, between these fellows and our own, eh?' Drinkwater asked.

'Why… I don't know, sir. They make a deal of noise…'

Drinkwater looked pleased. 'Exactly so. They are a great deal noisier and many officers would judge 'em as inferior because of that; but remark something else. They are also excited and cheerful. I'd say that, just like our fellows, they're spoiling for a fight, wouldn't you?'

'Yes. I suppose so, sir.' A frown crossed the boy's face. 'Sir?'

'Mmmm?' Drinkwater looked up from his journal.

'What will happen to us, sir, if this ship goes into battle?'

'Well, Mr Gillespy, that's a difficult question. We will not be allowed on deck and so, by the usages of war, will be required to stay here. Now do not look so alarmed. This is the safest place in the ship. Very few shot will penetrate this far and, although the decks above us may be raked, we shall be quite safe. Do not forget that instances of ships actually being sunk by gunfire are rare.

'So, let us examine the hypothesis of a French victory. If this is the case we shall be no worse off, for we may have extra company and that will make things much the merrier. On the other hand, assuming that it is a British victory, which circumstances, I might add, I have not the slightest reason to doubt, then we shall find ourselves liberated. Even if the ship is not taken we shall almost certainly be exchanged. We shall not be the first officers present in an enemy ship when that ship is attacked by our friends.' He smiled as reassuringly as he could. 'Be of good heart, Mr Gillespy. You may well have something to tell your grandchildren ere long.'

Gillespy nodded. 'You said that to me before, sir, when the French squadron got out of Rochefort.'

'Did I? I had forgotten.' The captain took up his pen again and bent over his journal.

This remark made Gillespy realise the great distance that separated them. He found it difficult to relate to this man who had shown him such kindness after the harshness of Lord Walmsley. In his first days on board Antigone it had seemed impossible that the captain who stood so sternly immobile