had crowded decks with elated seamen cheering in frenzied abandon. The victor of St Vincent, the Nile, Copenhagen – a fighting admiral like no other, sent to save England!
While the L’Aurores ‘spliced the mainbrace’ in celebration, Kydd and Renzi raised a quiet glass to each other. There was now no longer any question: the near future would see an encounter that would decide the fate of millions – conceivably the world itself. Would Nelson prevail or would Napoleon’s hordes be free to fall upon England?
Within a day orders were received that had been sent on ahead by Nelson:
On the day following Kydd watched surging crowds ashore; it took little guesswork to know that Lord Nelson had arrived.
No flag broke at
‘On shore on ship’s business? Then it’s only my duty that I do accompany the captain,’ Renzi said primly, buttoning his waistcoat.
Cheered and jostled by turns, they finally arrived at the bow-windowed posting house where an impenetrable crush fell back reluctantly at Kydd’s uniform. At the door a number of harassed-looking soldiers made a hurried lane for him and they entered a lower hall, if anything even more crowded.
Hailing a beefy gate-porter, they finally got up the stairs and into the presence of the great man. Nelson was standing quite at ease, dictating to a secretary and making pleasantries to a pair of well-dressed gentlemen, oblivious to the fawning of several others.
‘Ah, Kydd!’ he said, with evident pleasure. ‘I do feel we can at last offer you some sport worthy of the name. Your
‘Aye aye, sir,’ he stuttered.
‘Oh, this is Mr Canning, treasurer of the Navy and this Mr Rose, paymaster general. Without gentlemen like these, we would have no sea service.’ He smiled genially. ‘Do stay, sir – that’s Hardy over there and we’ll raise a glass to England together before we board.’
The coach swayed and slowed on the choked roads at the approaches to Portsmouth. The driver swore and snapped his whip over the heads of the mob streaming towards Landport gate but without effect. Cecilia pleaded to the uncaring mass to move. They whooped and shouted in return but did not give an inch.
‘Never in m’ life seen anythin’ like this’n!’ the coachman said in amazement, fending off a tipsy would-be rider while trying to control the frightened horses. ‘Like as not, we’m as far as we c’n get, lady.’
‘Five guineas to get to the high street!’
He looked at her kindly. ‘Can’t see yez getting into Portsea without ye walks, miss. Help y’ down?’
Cecilia began thrusting through the unruly crowd, giving as good as she got as she struggled on, but her despair mounted. Not knowing Portsmouth well, she turned down a side-street and hurried along, panting and desperate. She had no idea where to find her menfolk but instinct drove her on – towards the sea.
‘Well, gentlemen, our destiny awaits. Shall we take boat now?’ Nelson said at last. He went to the window to glance at the sky, provoking an instant roar from the crowd outside.
‘The redcoats have been turned out, my lord,’ his flag-captain said diffidently, ‘but they don’t appear to have it in hand.’
‘Then I’ll leave by the rear,’ Nelson said crisply. ‘I’ll not embark from Sally Port. There’s a bathing beach at Southsea further along the seafront, as I remember.’
‘There is, sir,’ the dockyard commissioner said. ‘If we go by Penny Street and the church, there’s a tunnel let through the wall.’
‘Very well.’ But as soon as Nelson emerged from the back door of the George there were frantic shouts and an instant surge, people pressing towards him to catch a glimpse of his face. A number were in tears or falling prostrate while others gawked or shouted.
As he stepped out into the street the crowd fell back as though mesmerised. Nelson himself was in the greatest good humour, continually raising his hat to the ladies, clasping a hand, acknowledging a knelt prayer. He seemed to move along in a bubble of silent rapture; then after he had passed came redoubled shouts and cheering.
To Kydd, a few paces behind, it was extraordinary, dream-like. He had no idea where Renzi was but the sea of faces pressing in was unnerving. Some reached out to touch him, paw his uniform, all clamouring for his attention.
They slowly crossed a green by high earth ramparts, hundreds pouring on to it as it became obvious where they were headed – a woman fell in a swoon and was overwhelmed by the crush. Then they were at a stone bastion by the sea with a small tunnel beneath.
Ahead of Cecilia there was a swelling roar; nearby people ran to see. She joined them and was carried along on to a greensward rimmed by the grey stone of a low fortification. It could only be Nelson ahead and she knew that nearby must be her brother and the man with whom she wished to spend the rest of her life. Then she saw high earthworks and scrambled to the top with the others to look down on history in the making – and there in a small group walking with Lord Nelson was her brother!
She screamed out at him but her voice was lost in the din and she saw them disappear into a tunnel – but with no sign of Nicholas. Then there was a rush over the stone fortification as sentries were jostled aside, helpless to stop the crowd. Cecilia found herself fighting for a place at the top of an outer redoubt that looked seaward and down on to a nearby small beach with bathing machines.
The group emerged from the tunnel on to the beach, Nelson stopping to acknowledge the adoring crowd with waves, his gold lace and four stars glittering in the autumn sunshine. His barge nosed in, and first two important-
