Victory

Sensing the mood, Kydd sent word that instead of the other broadside he desired to see of what calibre his gun-captains really were. Until the targets were out of range each gun would have a chance to punish the enemy. With a steady gun-platform and perfect conditions in the mirrored seas, the strike of ball and subsequent skipping were plain, as was a distant flurry when one hit home to savage cheers.

It was valuable practice but even more pleasing was the spirit it was raising in his ship.

Once the convoy had arrived safely in Gibraltar and the troops landed, L’Aurore was fitted for her main role: the Toulon blockade. For this the watchword was endurance – on station there could be no returning the seven hundred miles for resupply. They must subsist on what they carried, and that included both sea stores and spare parts.

Kydd spent some time with the warrant officers, trying to foresee any situation and whether they would be self-sufficient enough to handle it, using what they carried. With L’Aurore’s small hold, there was no margin for extras.

The next day she sailed from Rosia Bay with the tidal stream, in a decreasing northerly that Kydd recognised as the tail end of the notorious tramontane, an icy blast from the interior of France. It did, however, enable them to crack on at a pace.

With just three days before they raised Lord Nelson’s squadron, Kydd determined to use every hour of it. Gun practice. Sail drill. Signals. From dawn to dusk they slaved, shaving seconds off their times, competing mast against mast, gun against gun – but that was never the point. In the smoke and chaos of action it would be the crew who stayed at their posts, serving their guns and their ship with the confidence of long practice, that would emerge the victors.

On the morning of the third day lookouts were doubled while L’Aurore was priddied aloft and alow as though for harbour inspection. According to the rendezvous he had been given, they should raise the battle squadron at midday, Victory and near a dozen of-the-line and frigates under easy sail.

As always, the rendezvous was a line of latitude rather than a point, running some fifty miles south of Toulon, but the grey expanse of wind-driven sea was empty in every direction. He ran the line down from one end to the other – nothing.

There was no question of the accuracy of the line and he was sure of their position, so where were they? Had Nelson got word that Villeneuve had sortied and flung his squadron at the French? Somewhere out there the deciding battle of the war might be raging.

Or was the fleet at Malta or another port revictualling? Should he go in chase or stay where he was? If the squadron returned from wherever it was and he was not here . . . He would give it one day . . .

But there was another way. Supposing he went north, closed with Toulon and spied into the port. If the French were still there, all urgency was removed and he could return with an easy heart. If they were out – that was another matter and he would fall back on Gibraltar for orders.

He turned to the master. ‘Mr Kendall, we’re to look into Toulon.’ L’Aurore lay to the wind and sailed north in bursts of spray into the short, choppy seas.

Next morning the French coast lifted into view, a hard, darker grey. It was not difficult to make out the low cliffs of Cape Cepet, the protective outlying arm around the great harbour and, behind, the two-thousand-foot Mont Faron, which Napoleon had used to such effect to bombard and recapture the port long ago at the war’s beginning.

There was little to show the true situation but Kydd had a map drawn up by Sir Sidney Smith during that dramatic episode and saw that if he stood on past the cape to the far shore the harbour would open up to his left.

He concentrated hard. This would be all too familiar in the months ahead but for now it was the lair of the enemy and had the chill of the unknown about it. After he had joined up he would have access to the accumulated wisdom of years of blockade but at the moment . . .

A low rumble and gun-smoke arose from the cliffs, but Kydd ignored it and pressed on towards the distant shore. Sure enough the harbour opened up to larboard – first the Grande Rade, the Great Roads, where fleets would assemble before sailing. It was deserted but for a single frigate deep within. Then he saw them: a dense-packed forest of bare masts well beyond in the Petite Rade where Villeneuve’s fleet were safely packed, secured by the artillery on the heights. They had not sortied.

So where was Nelson? The frigate inside loosened sail and put down its helm, making directly for them. Kydd tensed: to fight or flee? This was the most dangerous location of all, and he had what he needed.

‘Take us out, Mr Kendall.’

L’Aurore swung about until she ran before the wind, rolling fitfully and eager for the open sea. The other frigate, however, had expertly cut to the lee of the protecting arm of Cape Cepet and was fast making to intercept them in a fine show of seamanship and local knowledge.

Aware that this was not his ship’s most favoured point of sailing, Kydd watched apprehensively as they converged at the low finality of the cape, L’Aurore in the lead by barely a quarter- mile.

Then there was the thud of a gun from the pursuing frigate and her colours streamed free. English colours.

A short time later, after an exchange of the private signal of the day, HM Frigate Seahorse heaved to and requested the pleasure of the acquaintance of the captain of HMS L’Aurore. Soon Kydd was in possession of the knowledge that Nelson’s fleet was at that moment in winter quarters, 170 miles to the south-east and expecting him.

Chapter 7

‘Dear Uncle,’ Bowden wrote, wondering just how he should begin the letter, where to start telling of the cascade of impressions and experiences he had met with since he had joined Victory. It was always a good opener, however, to enquire after the health of various family notables and he did so industriously, not omitting Aunt Hester’s megrims and Cousin Ann’s tooth.

His uncle had taken responsibility for Bowden’s upbringing after his father’s death. He was a very senior captain