Don Alonso looked at the young officer, expecting to read some protest in his face against these insults to the noble science of gunnery. Then he said:
“The worst of it is that the ships will lack material too and it would be. …”
Marcial, who had been listening at the door to the whole conversation, could no longer contain himself. He came into the room saying:
“And why should they lack material?—The Trinidad carries 140 guns—32 thirty-six pounders, 34 twenty-four pounders, 36 twelve-pounders, 18 eighty-pounders, and 10 mortars. The Príncipe de Astúrias carries 118, the Santa Ana 120, the Rayo 100, the Nepomuceno, and the San …”
“What business have you to interfere!” exclaimed Doña Francisca. “And what does it matter to us whether they carry fifty or eighty?” But Marcial went on with his patriotic list all the same, but in a lower voice and speaking only to my master, who dared not express his approbation. Doña Francisca went on:
“But for God’s sake, Don Rafael, do not go. Explain that you are a landsman, that you are going to be married. If Napoleon must fight, let him fight alone: let him come forward and say: ‘Here am I—kill me, you English—or let me kill you.’ Why should Spain be subject to his lordship’s vagaries?”
“I must admit,” said Malespina, “that our alliance with France has proved most disastrous.”
“Then why was it made? Everyone says that this Godoy is an ignorant fellow. You might think a nation could be governed by playing the guitar!”
“After the treaty of Basle,” the young man said, “we were forced to become the enemies of the English, who defeated our fleet off Cape St. Vincent.”
“Ah! there you have it!” exclaimed Don Alonso, striking the table violently with his fist. “If Admiral Córdova had given the word to tack to port, to the vessels in front—in accordance with the simplest rules of strategy—the victory would have been ours. I consider that proved to a demonstration, and I stated my opinion at the time. But every man must keep his place.”
“The fact remains that we were beaten,” said Malespina. “The defeat might not have led to such serious consequences if the Spanish ministry had not signed the treaty of San Ildefonso with the French republic. That put us at the mercy of the First Consul, obliging us to support him in wars which had no aim or end but the furthering of his ambition. The peace of Amiens was no better than a truce; England and France declared war again immediately, and then Napoleon demanded our assistance. We wished to remain neutral, for that treaty did not oblige us to take any part in the second war, but he insisted on our cooperation with so much determination that the King of Spain, to pacify him, agreed to pay him a subsidy of a hundred millions of reales—it was purchasing our neutrality with gold. But even so we did not get what we had paid for; in spite of this enormous sacrifice we were dragged into war. England forced us into it by seizing, without any justification, four of our frigates returning from America freighted with bullion. After such an act of piracy the parliament of Madrid had no choice but to throw the country into the hands of Napoleon, and that was exactly what he wished. Our navy agreed to submit to the decision of the First Consul—nay, he was already Emperor—and he, hoping to conquer the English by stratagem, sent off the combined fleets to Martinique, intending to draw off the British naval forces from the coasts of Europe. Thus he hoped to realize his favorite dream of invading Great Britain; but this clever trick only served to prove the inexperience and cowardice of the French Admiral who, on his return to Europe would not share with our navy the glory of the battle off Finisterre. Then, in obedience to the Emperor’s orders, the combined fleets were to enter Brest. They say that Napoleon is furious with the French Admiral and intends to supplant him immediately.”
“But from what they say,” Marcial began, putting his oar in again, as we say, “Monsieur Corneta wants to cancel it, and is on the lookout for some action which may wipe out the black mark against him. I am only too glad, for then we shall see who can do something and who cannot.”
“One thing is certain,” Malespina went on, “the English fleet is cruising in our waters and means to blockade Cádiz. The Spanish authorities think that our fleet ought not to go out of the bay, where they have every chance of conquering the foe; but it seems that the French are determined to go out to sea.”
“We shall see,” said my master. “It cannot fail to be a glorious battle, anyway.”
“Glorious! yes. …” replied Malespina. “But who can promise that fortune shall favor us. You sailors indulge in many illusions and, perhaps from seeing things too closely, you do not realize the inferiority of our fleet to that of the English. They, besides having a splendid artillery have all the materials at hand for repairing their losses at once. As to the men, I need say nothing. The enemy’s sailors are the best in the world—all old and experienced seamen, while only too many of the Spanish vessels are manned by raw recruits, indifferent to their work and hardly knowing how to serve a gun; our marines, again, are not all we could
