1805

Drinkwater returned to the table with a roll of canvas, frayed at the edges. He spread it out on the table. The paint was badly cracked and the canvas damaged where the tines of a fork had pierced it. It was D'Auvergne's turn to show astonishment.

'Good God alive!'

'You know who she is?'

'Hortense Santhonax… with Junot's wife one of the most celebrated beauties of Paris… This…' He stared at the lower right hand corner, 'this is by David. How the devil did you come by it?'

Drinkwater looked down at the portrait. The red hair and the slender neck wound with pearls rose from a bosom more exposed than concealed by the wisp of gauze around the shoulders.

'It hung there, on that bulkhead, when we took this ship in the Red Sea. I knew her briefly.'

'Were you in that business at Beaubigny back in ninety-two?'

Drinkwater nodded. 'Aye. I was mate of the cutter Kestrel when we took Hortense, her brother and others off the beach there, émigrés we thought then, escaping from the mob…'

'Who turned their coats when their money ran out, eh?'

'That is true of her brother certainly. She, I now believe, never intended other than to dupe us.' He did not add that she had been Hortense de Montholon then, sister to the man his own brother Edward had murdered at Newmarket nine years later.

D'Auvergne nodded. 'You are very probably right in what you say. She and her husband are fervent and enthusiastic Bonapartists. I have no doubt that if Bonaparte continues to ascend in the world, so will Santhonax.'

'This knowledge is learned from your station at St Helier, I gather?'

D'Auvergne smiled, the sardonic grin friendly now. 'Another correct assumption, Drinkwater.' He regarded his host with curiosity. 'I had heard your name from Dungarth in the matter of some enterprise or other. He is not given to idle gossip about all his acquaintances, as a gentleman in our profession cannot afford to be. But I perceive you have seen a deal of service…' he trailed off.

Drinkwater smiled back. 'My midshipmen consider me an ancient and tarpaulin officer, Captain D'Auvergne. Very little of my time has been spent in grand vessels like the one I have the honour to command at this time. I take your point about the need to guard the tongue, but I also take it that you have a clearing house on Jersey where information is collected?'

'Captain,' D'Auvergne said lightly, 'you continue to amaze with the accuracy of your deductions.'

The decanter passed between them and Drinkwater began to relax for the first time since the morning. The silence that fell between them was companionable now. After a pause D'Auvergne said, 'Knowing the confidence reposed in you by Lord Dungarth, I will venture to tell you that it is part of my responsibility to gather information through a network of agents in northern France. My operations are of particular interest to Sir William, for I am able to pass on a surprising amount of news concerning Truguet's squadron at Brest. Hence my unease at the prospect of you harrying the actual sea-borders of France. Harry their trade and destroy the invasion barges wherever you find them, but have a thought for the sympathies of sea-faring folk who have never had much loyalty for the government in Paris…'

'Or London, come to that,' Drinkwater added wryly. The two men laughed again.

'Seriously, Drinkwater, I believe we are at the crisis of the war and I am sad that the government is not united behind a determination to face facts. This inter-party wrangling will be our undoing. The French army is formidable, everywhere victorious, a whole population turned to war. All we have to hope for is that Bonaparte might fall. There are indications of political upheavals in France. You have heard of the recent discovery of a plot to kill the First Consul; there are other reactions to him still fermenting. If they succeed I believe we will have a lasting peace before the year is out. But if Bonaparte survives, then not only will his position be unassailable but the invasion inevitable. The plans are already well advanced. Do not underestimate the power, valour or energy of the French. If Bonaparte triumphs he will have hundreds of Santhonaxes running at his horse's tail. Their fleet must be kept mewed up in Brest until this desperate business is concluded. This is the purpose of my visits to Cornwallis but I can see no harm in the captain of every cruiser being aware of the extreme danger we are in.' D'Auvergne leaned forward and banged the table for emphasis. 'Invasion and Bonaparte are the most lethal combination we have ever faced!'

Chapter Four Foolish Virgins

 April 1804

'Where away?'

Drinkwater shivered in the chill of dawn, peering to the eastward where Hill pointed.

'Three points to starboard, sir. Ten or a dozen small craft with a brig as escort.'

He saw them at last, faint interruptions on the steel-blue horizon, growing more substantial as every minute passed and the gathering daylight grew. Squatting, he steadied his glass and studied the shapes, trying to deduce what they might be. Behind him he heard the shuffle of feet as other officers joined Hill, together with a brief muttering as they discussed the possibility of an attack.

Drinkwater rose stiffly. His neck and shoulder arched in the chilly air. He shut the telescope with a snap and turned on the officers.

'Well, gentlemen. What d'you make of 'em, eh?'

'Invasion barges,' said Hill without hesitation. Drinkwater agreed.

''Chalowpes' and 'péniches', I believe they call the infernal things, moving eastwards to the rendezvous at Havre and all ready to embark what Napoleon Bonaparte is pleased to call the Army of the Coasts of the Ocean.'

'Clear for action, sir?' asked Rogers, his pale features showing the dark shadow of an unshaven jaw and reminding Drinkwater that daylight was growing quickly.

'No. I think not. Pipe up hammocks, send the hands to breakfast. Mr Hill, have your watch clew up the fore- course. Hoist French colours and edge down towards them. No show of force. Mr Frey, a string of bunting at the fore t'gallant yardarms. We are Frenchbuilt, gentlemen. We might as well take advantage of the fact. Mr Rogers, join me for breakfast.'

As he descended the companionway Drinkwater heard the watch called to stand by the clew-garnets and raise the fore tack and sheet. Below, the berth-deck erupted in sudden activity as the off-duty men were turned out of their hammocks. He nodded to the marine sentry at attention by his door and entered the cabin. Rogers followed and both men sat at the table which was being hurriedly laid by an irritated Mullender.

'You're early this morning, sir,' grumbled the steward, with the familiar licence allowed to intimate servants.

'No, Mullender, you are late… Sit down, Sam, and let us eat. The morning's chill has made me damned hungry.'

'Thank you. You do intend to attack those craft, don't you?'

'Of course. When I've had some breakfast.' He smiled at Rogers who once again looked at though he had been drinking heavily the night before. 'D'you remember when we were in the Virago together we were attacked off the Sunk by a pair of luggers?'

'Aye…'

'And we beat 'em off. Sank one of them if I remember right. The other…'

'Got away,' interrupted Rogers.

'For which you have never forgiven me… ah, thank you, Mullender. Well I hope this morning to rectify the matter. Let's creep up and take that little brig. She'd make a decent prize, mmm?'

'By God, I'll drink to that!' Comprehension dawned in Rogers's eyes.

'I thought you might, Sam, I thought you might. But I want those bateaux as well.'

They attacked the skillygolee enthusiastically, encouraged by the smell of bacon coming from the pantry