Tenacious

Kydd's role was over. The marines had secured the magazines, the French sailors were dispersing below to whatever consolations remained until they were taken in charge. But while he waited to be relieved from Tenacious, Kydd declined, out of respect for the feelings of the officers, to enter the cabin spaces and wardroom and remained on deck.

Absently, his steps led him up to the poop-deck, to Heureux's signal position under the two big flags that floated overhead. He sighed deeply. The bay of Aboukir in the glittering purity of early morning had all the desolation and grandeur of a dying battlefield. Every man-o'-war in the French line stretching away to the north lay in the stillness of surrender, ship after ship, some broken, mastless wrecks, one lying inshore with only her upper-works above water and, closer, a frigate still afire.

Resistance in the south was nearly at an end; the last two ships of the French line had cut their cables and were now fleeing with two frigates—but Nelson was signalling, urging Swiftsure and the others in chase. Only two enemy were left: one was drifting helplessly on the shoals and the other was no more than a defiant wreck that must shortly be silenced by the English ships coming down in reinforcement.

Kydd shook his head in silent admiration. It was a victory on such a scale as never before in history—not merely the winning but the complete annihilation. 'Victory' was not strong enough a word to describe what lay before him.

CHAPTER 7

'GLORY BE, IT'S INCREDIBLE!' breathed Rawson, gripped by the glittering expanse of the Bay of Naples covered with hundreds of boats whose joyous passengers shouted and waved wildly. They had come to see Nelson, hero of the Nile, grand conqueror of the dreaded French with their dreams of empire, terminator of the ambitions of the greatest general of the age.

'Be sure an' you'll not see the like o' this again,' Kydd responded, equally awestruck. As they drew closer he saw the sea-front, coast roads, quayside and the ramparts of castles all black with massed sightseers.

Sounds of music and the martial thumping of drums came towards them from three flag-bedecked barges rowed abreast in which musicians enthusiastically beat out 'Rule Britannia' and 'God Save the King.' A ceremonial felucca forged into the lead, her foredeck packed with an angelic choir in laurel leaves. Not to be outdone, the noble barges in the colours of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies and Great Britain pulled strongly seawards towards the battle-worn men-o'-war.

Kydd glanced astern. Rear Admiral Nelson was standing on the quarterdeck of his flagship. Vanguard was under tow by Tenacious: the foremast that had been repaired after the storm off Toulon and seen her through the long battle had not survived the squally weather they had encountered within sight of Stromboli. Kydd snatched a quick look through his telescope. Over his gold-laced frock-coat the admiral wore a red sash with the resplendent star of the Bath over his breast; spangles of light came from his gold and silver medals. Unmistakable with his empty sleeve pinned up, he stood grave and unmoving in the centre of the quarterdeck from which he had fought his great battle.

Nelson had retained only two of his squadron, Culloden and Alexander—the rest had been dispatched to Gibraltar and tasks about the Mediterranean. He had employed Tenacious to assist his battered ship back to Naples, the only friendly port in a friendless sea.

More boats arrived and the bay filled with noise, colour and excitement. One vessel in particular caught Kydd's eye, a rich and stately barge with an imperious female figure in white gossamer gesticulating hysterically in its prow. He saw at the ensign staff that this was an English official craft of high status, probably the ambassador.

Before he could confirm it, Rawson exclaimed, 'Flag, sir—she signals.' It was 'cast off the tow.' Tenacious would round to, and wait for Vanguard with her reduced sail to overtake and precede her into harbour.

The press of boats advanced and one by one the upper-deck guns of Vanguard began to thud—twenty-one for the King. Tenacious followed gun for gun, her brave show of flags streaming out in the smoke. The ambassadorial barge at last reached the flagship, which backed topsails while a small party was helped up the side. A large union flag broke at the mizzen and Vanguard moved ahead slowly to her anchorage.

Even before she had swung to her anchor she was surrounded by clamouring watercraft. Guns banged and thudded from the towered castles ashore as salutes were exchanged and shrieks of feminine delight greeted the thunder of the flagship's guns, which had last spoken at the Nile.

The tide of boats enveloped Tenacious as well. Nobles and wives, courtiers and mistresses, all had come to see the famed warriors of the sea. Renzi's Italian was much in demand as the flower of Neapolitan society was escorted aboard and given a tour of one of Nelson's famed men-o'-war.

A richly ornamented royal barge put off from the shore. 'Quickly, lad,' Kydd told Rawson. 'Rouse out y'r Naples standard an' as many ensigns as y' can find. Hoist 'em for breaking at fore, main 'n' mizzen.' The navy had a way of invisibly hoisting a flag and setting it a-fly at exactly the right time, by folding the bunting tightly and passing a hitch round it. At the signal a sharp tug on the halliard would burst it open to float proudly on the wind.

The royal barge headed directly for the flagship and curious eyes made out the long figure of the King in black velvet and gold lace as he joined the ambassador on the quarterdeck of Nelson's ship, then went below. An hour later the King returned on deck, to resume his ceremonial barge for his return, Admiral Nelson prominently at his side.

'Gentlemen!' Houghton called for attention, holding a paper. 'Tonight every officer of the fleet shall be a guest at a grand official banquet in our honour. I desire each of you to exert every effort in your appearance ...'

In the evening twilight boats of the fleet made their way inshore. As each pinnace touched at the quayside it was met with surging crowds and strident huzzahs of Bravissimo! Nelson, il vincitore di Abukir! The officers stepped ashore in a cloud of flapping birds released by fishermen.

Open-top carriages whisked them away, through noisy, ecstatic crowds, into the maze of streets behind the massive fortress that dominated the foreshore, and after a short journey they arrived in the courtyard of a dark stone Romanesque building.

They were handed down by liveried footmen, and conducted into a reception room entirely in red and gold, with extravagantly ornate chandeliers. For Kydd, the simple blue, white and gold of the naval officers stood out clean and noble against such overpowering opulence.

A receiving line was in progress at the opposite end of the room. Officers conversed self-consciously as they waited their turn while servants bore round flutes of iced champagne. It all had a giddying impact on Kydd's senses. He glanced at Renzi, who winked.

'You have met General Acton?' a nearby equerry asked.