Victory

gratings to send cool airs into the lower-deck.

Still no urgent cry came; L’Aurore, like the other frigates, was far out on the wings of the extended line, a width of near sixty miles being combed by the ongoing ships. Every new dawn saw each ship silently at quarters, doubled lookouts in their lofty eyrie straining to see as light began to steal over the grey sea, turning it by degrees to a deep blue – and always with the line of the horizon gradually firming and innocent of threat.

And after four thousand miles and three weeks at sea an undistinguished and tiny intrusion into the far blue rim: Barbados. What would they find there? That Nelson had been comprehensively fooled into a wild-goose chase across the whole Atlantic? Or that the French had come and gone, leaving a smoking ruin where once had been the richest of England’s possessions?

The squadron fleet came to anchor in Carlisle Bay – and, praise be, the cannon of Fort Charles thudded their salute. Smoke wreathed slowly about the Union Flag hanging limply above it in the tropical heat.

In minutes the bay was alive with watercraft heading out: bum-boats, with limes, bananas and illicit rum hidden inside coconuts, mixing with official vessels and store-ships.

Without warning guns began to open up around the whole fleet throwing the craft into confusion – but it was only another salute, the twenty-one for the King’s Birthday.

Shortly after, a boat brought an excitable army lieutenant to L’Aurore. He had alarming and thrilling news: the French had been sighted! They had caused destruction and consternation everywhere – at St Kitts, Nevis, Montserrat – and everyone was on edge at where they would strike next. The arrival of Nelson’s squadron was not a moment too soon.

Kydd realised that to have achieved such damage already, this could only have been Missiessy’s Rochefort squadron, which had sortied earlier. This was a double setback: not simply the devastation caused but that it was not Villeneuve – had they chased across the Atlantic after a phantom?

A peremptory gun banged out from Victory, drawing attention to the ‘all captains’ signal. Within two hours of anchoring, after a desperate chase across the ocean, Nelson was summoning a council- of-war.

Kydd wondered how he would take the latest news but the answer came as his barge neared the flagship. The Blue Peter broke at the masthead – the order for the fleet to make ready to sail.

Kydd entered the great cabin with several others at once. Nelson stood in much good humour, welcoming them in, exchanging gossip of the voyage, asking after ailments. When all had arrived he bade them be seated.

‘Gentlemen, you’ll be as elated as I to know that not only was I right in my surmise that Villeneuve was bound to the Indies but that he’s within a day or so’s reach of me. We’ve word here from General Brereton on St Lucia that he’s arrived in Martinique this past two weeks or so.’ He looked about the assembled group with beaming satisfaction.

‘Not only that . . . but he’s since sailed and cannot be far distant.’

Kydd’s pulse quickened. It sounded like an action was imminent. The clash of fleets would be in the Caribbean, much as Rodney’s great victory at the Saintes a generation before, just north beyond Martinique. Could it be . . . ?

‘I’m told as well that Missiessy’s Rochefort squadron of five of-the-line and four frigates is returning to join him and, further, that Admiral Magon with more sail-of-the-line has but yesterday reached here.’ Stirring among the captains showed the point was well taken – that now they were gravely outnumbered.

‘The God of Battles has delivered them to me!’ Nelson’s eyes glowed with conviction. ‘We now have a noble chance to meet and destroy them!’ Growls of agreement rose from around the table, Kydd’s enthusiastically among them. Who could possibly doubt that, with Nelson at the fore, a victory was certain?

‘To business. General Brereton’s information is that the French are headed south and our only colony of consequence there is Trinidad, which it is supposed is now taken by Villeneuve’s armament. Now, do mark that Port of Spain, which is sheltered around the inner side of the Gulf of Paria, may only be approached by one channel, here – the Dragon’s Mouth.’

This was the narrow passage between the island and South America, shallows and rocky islets on every hand. ‘A grim place for an encounter, my lord,’ came a low mutter.

‘Possibly,’ Nelson snapped. ‘Once through, I’d believe we’ll find the French and Spaniards at anchor off the town, and then – and then it will be the glorious Nile once again.’ It was there that Nelson had impetuously thrown his fleet at the French at anchor and achieved the most complete victory in naval history so far.

‘And we’ll trounce ’em once again!’ Kydd found himself saying.

‘God willing. The Barbados military are insisting we ship troops for the recovery of the island, and while I have my doubts of soldiers afloat I cannot refuse this handsome offer in such a laudable endeavour.

‘I have dispatched a schooner south. It will signal confirmation of the presence of the enemy, which shall then be your call to clear for action. We sail as soon as the soldiers are embarked.’

So it was to be a titanic struggle set in the hellish conditions of a brackish mangrove-ridden inland sea, ferocious jungle heat and tormenting insects. The soldiers could not be allowed on the gun-decks and would suffer appallingly in the fearsome hot stink of the orlop until the battle was won, but it couldn’t be helped.

The squadron weighed and stood south in the sultry easterly, the fleet that had endured a blockade in the depths of winter now sweltering in the blazing sun of the tropics in high summer. Ships and men had, without benefit of special storing or dockyard, made an immediate transition to full battle-readiness. This was the unsung glory of Nelson’s leadership, a tribute to the minute attention he always gave to the details.

Within twenty-four hours Tobago lifted into view and they altered westward for Galleon’s Passage keeping well out to sea for the last stretch before the Dragon’s Mouth. As the afternoon wore on, in light winds they closed with the coast – Trinidad.

The leading frigate, Amphion, suddenly sheered out of position on seeing a schooner close inshore with a red pennant over black hoisted. It was the exact signal they had been waiting for and Amphion’s ‘enemy are present’ soared up eagerly.

The distant thunder of drums rolled over the water as the squadron prepared. Now there could be no more doubting, no more conjecture. They had chased Villeneuve and had him cornered.