Victory

The distant Seahorse vanished momentarily into a rain squall, reappeared and then was lost completely. The pursuers between widened the separation while the rest of the main fleet streamed out, quickly swallowed up in driving rain-squalls.

Kydd understood what was being done and when the enemy abandoned their chase L’Aurore shaped course southwards on the long side of a triangle that would see them converging on both Seahorse and the enemy fleet.

In any other circumstances it would have been exhilarating work, for L’Aurore was probably the fastest ship on the scene, but this was in deadly earnest – and the north-north-westerly that was making the breakout possible meant the wind was astern, and this was not her best point of sailing. In fact, for sea-keeping it had to be her worst.

The motion was appalling. A vicious barrelling roll had all hands grabbing for support and the wrenching movement, coupled with a harsh pitching into the backs of rollers, was deeply unsettling.

In just an hour or two’s sailing, however, the rear ships of Villeneuve’s fleet became visible. Kydd smiled in grim satisfaction. They had been right – the French admiral had not risked evasive manoeuvres and had headed straight out to sea, hoping to lose himself before the English frigates found him again.

And now the biggest question of all was about to be answered. Would Villeneuve head west towards Gibraltar to join up with the Spanish in Cadiz before storming for the Channel to fulfil Bonaparte’s destiny, or would he go east, to fall on Naples or even Alexandria in vengeful answer to the humiliation of the Nile?

Kydd hung on doggedly as the frigate rolled and bucketed crazily, knowing that the fate of England lay in his hands. There was no variation in Villeneuve’s stubborn southward course, however, and soon Seahorse came up with him, lessening the frightful chance of losing the French.

The frigate eased up with him and the two pitched and heaved together. The figure of her captain lifted up a speaking trumpet. ‘We – staaay – until we – knooow!’ he blared.

There was no need for discussion and Kydd acknowledged with a wave. The two frigates parted to take station on either quarter of the fleet; with wind astern they could deploy as they chose.

Another hour passed with no move to either east or west. Conditions were worsening to a fresh gale, wave- crests torn to spindrift and eyes reddening at the continual spray sheeting across. L’Aurore staggered now, the French barely in sight and Seahorse out on the beam taking punishment.

Kydd did what he could, rolling tackles to check the strain on plunging spars, preventers rigged – if anything carried away it would cost them more than the ship. The hours passed: no change. Day was turning into evening and then it would be the nightmare of a chase in darkness.

There was only one thing that they could do: stay closer – whatever it took, stay with them.

It seemed Seahorse was of the same mind and the two frigates closed in astern just as night lanthorns appeared in the tops of the enemy battleships, their betraying light a penalty for keeping the fleet together in darkness.

Three horizontal lights flickered and stayed in the main-top of Seahorse. Kydd did the same. The light faded and the storm-ridden night began, the white combers charging out of the blackness adding to the violence of the scene – but this was the critical time, the darkness when Villeneuve would surely douse the lanthorns and slip away on his planned course.

Another hour. The same southerly course. Hours more. It was inexplicable – why no move? Kydd was wet, chilled to the heart, but nothing would take him from the quarterdeck at that time.

The watch changed, clawing their way along the life-lines now rigged along the main-deck.

Midnight and still nothing.

A short time later there was a perceptible wan lightening of the violent seascape; an invisible moon rising above the storm wrack, which must have been known to Villeneuve. Now it was too late for him: he could no longer disappear into an ink-black night. Why?

The tempest was reaching its peak and Kydd knew that L’Aurore was now near her limit. They would soon have to take the agonising decision to break off and, in the face of desperate need, abandon the pursuit to carry their vital news to Nelson.

Another frantic hour went by and then, at about two, a blue flare sputtered on Seahorse. As he watched, the three lights in her main-top moved into line as she swung away to larboard.

Unbelieving, Kydd saw the frigate haul her wind for the south-east and begin to diverge, clearly intent on leaving, the blue light to draw L’Aurore away too. He flogged his tired and frozen brain to think why this should be so.

Then he had it. Well south by now, they must have passed to the westward of Corsica and Villeneuve was therefore blocked from a rapid move down Italy. Similarly, on this southward course they had missed the chance of a rapid passage to the west of the Balearics and on to Gibraltar. Whether in fear of constricted waters in this blow or for other reasons, Villeneuve was on his way to the grand cross-ways of the Mediterranean between Sardinia and North Africa and, if told in time, Nelson had a chance.

L’Aurore’s helm spun over and she sheeted in for the south-east, falling in astern of Seahorse. Now, steadied by her sails and on a quartering reach, she came into her own and in the wild night the two frigates stretched away for Agincourt Sound, the smaller quickly taking the lead and putting distance between her and Seahorse.

Kydd was in the race of his life to be the one to tell Nelson that the French were out.

L’Aurore flew into Agincourt Sound, signal guns cracking, and in a thunderous flogging of canvas rounding to at the flagship. Kydd’s boat was in the water instantly, her crew stretching out heroically. He bounded up the side of Victory to be met at the top by the grim-faced commander-in-chief himself.

‘The French are at sea, m’ lord!’ Kydd said immediately.

‘My cabin,’ Nelson snapped. It took minutes only to impart the gist of what had happened and just seconds for the order ‘All captains’ to be passed, followed instantly by ‘Fleet will unmoor’. A gun crashed out to add urgency to