1805 nd-6 Page 19

  'I don't want your damned bayonet for my breakfast,' muttered Drinkwater pushing the dully gleaming weapon aside. He pointed to his mouth. 'Manger,' he said hopefully. The sentry shook his head and Drinkwater retreated into the miserable cabin.

  A few minutes later, however, the debonair Guillet appeared, immaculately attired as befitted the junior officer of a flagship, and conducted Drinkwater courteously to the gunroom where a number of the officers were breakfasting. They looked at him curiously and Drinkwater felt ill at ease in clothes in which he had slept. However he took coffee and some biscuit, observing that for a fleet in port the officers' table was sparsely provided. His presence clearly had something of a dampening effect, for within minutes only he and Guillet remained at the table.

  'I should be obliged if I could send ashore for my effects, Lieutenant… I would like to shave…' He mimed the action, at which Guillet held up his hand.

  'No, Captain, please it is already that I 'ave sent for your…' he motioned over his own clothes, stuck for the right word.

  'Thank you, Lieutenant.'

  They were not long in coming and they arrived together with Mr Gillespy.

  'Good Lord, Mr Gillespy, what the devil do you do here, eh?' The boy remained silent and in the bad light it took Drinkwater a moment to see that he was controlling himself with difficulty. 'Come, sir, I asked you a question…'

  'P… please, sir…' He pulled a note from his pocket and held it out. Drinkwater took it and read.

  Sir,

  The boy is much troubled by your absence. Permission has been obtained from our captors that he may pin you wherever you have been taken and I have presumed to send him to you, believing this to be the best thing for him. We are well and in good spirits.

  It was signed by James Quilhampton. He could hardly have imagined Drinkwater was on board the enemy flagship. 'Lieutenant Guillet… please have the kindness to return this midshipman to my lieutenant…'

  'Oh, no, sir… please, please…' Drinkwater looked at the boy. His lower lip was trembling, his eyes filled with tears. 'Please, sir…'

  'Brace up, Mr Gillespy, pray remember who and where you are.'

  He paused, allowing the boy to pull himself together, and turned towards Guillet. 'What are your orders regarding this young officer?'

  Guillet shrugged. His new duty was becoming irksome and he was regretting his boasted ability to speak English. 'The admiral 'e is a busy man, Capitaine. 'E says if the, er, midshipman is necessary to you, then he 'as no objection.'

  Drinkwater turned to the boy again. 'Very well, Mr Gillespy, you had better find yourself a corner of the orlop.'

  'And now, Capitaine, perhaps you will come with me onto the deck, yes?'

  Drinkwater was ushered on deck, Guillet brushing aside the boy in his ardour to show the English prisoner the puissant might of the Combined Fleet. Drinkwater emerged on deck, his curiosity aroused, his professional interest fully engaged. He was conducted to the starboard waist and allowed to walk up and down on the gangway in company with Guillet. The lieutenant was unusually expansive and Drinkwater considered he was acting on orders from a higher authority. It was difficult to analyse why Villeneuve should want an enemy officer shown his command. He must know Drinkwater was experienced enough to see its weaknesses as well as its strengths; no seaman could fail to do that.

  The deck of the Bucentaure was crowded with milling seamen and soldiers as the last of the stores were brought aboard. The last water casks were being filled and there were obvious preparations for sailing being made on deck and in the rigging. Boats were out under the bows of the nearest ships, singling up the cables fastened to the buoys laid in the Grande Rade.

  'Over there,' said Guillet pointing to a 74-gun two-decker, 'le Berwick a prize from the Royal Navy, and there, the Swiftsure, also once a ship of your navy,' Guillet smiled, 'and, of course, we also 'ave one other ship of yours to our credit, but we could not bring it with us,' he laughed, 'His Majesty's sloop Diamond Rock!'

  Guillet seemed to think this a great joke and Drinkwater remembered hearing of Commodore Hood's bold fortifying of the Diamond Rock off Martinique which had been held for some time before the overwhelming force of Villeneuve's fleet was brought to bear on it.

  'I heard the garrison fought successive attacks off for nineteen hours without water in a tropical climate, Lieutenant, and that they capitulated upon honourable terms. Is that not so?' Guillet appeared somewhat abashed and Drinkwater changed the subject. 'Who is that extraordinary officer who has just come aboard?'

  'Ah, that is Capitaine Infernet of the Intrépide.' Drinkwater watched a tall, flamboyant officer with a boisterous air climb on deck. ''E went to sea a powder monkey,' Guillet went on, 'and 'as escaped death a 'undred times, even when 'is ship it blows apart. 'E speaks badly but 'e fights well…'

  'And who is that meeting him?'

  'That is my capitaine, Jean Jacques Magendie, commandant of the Bucentaure.'

  'Ah, and that man?' Drinkwater indicated a small, energetic officer with the epaulettes of a Capitaine de Vaisseu.

  'Ah, that,' said Guillet in obvious admiration, 'is Capitaine Lucas of the Redoutable.'

  'You obviously admire him, Lieutenant. Why is that?'

  Guillet shrugged. 'He is a man most clever, and 'is crew and ship most, er, 'ow do you say it… er, very good?'

  'Efficient?'

  'Oui. That is right: efficient.'

  Drinkwater turned away, Infernet was looking at him and he did not wish to draw attention to himself. He stared out over the crowded waters of Cadiz, the great battleships surrounded by small boats. He saw the massive hull of the four-decked Spanish ship Santissima Trinidad, 'That is the Santissima Trinidad, is it not?' Guillet nodded. 'She is Admiral Gravina's flagship?'

  'No,' said Guillet, 'the Captain-General 'as 'is flag aboard the Principe de Asturias of one 'undred and twelve guns. The Santissima Trinidad flies the flag of Rear-Admiral Don Baltazar Cisneros. The ship moored next to 'er, she is the Rayo of one 'undred guns. She may interest you, Capitaine; she is commanded by Don Enrique Macdonnell. 'E is an Irish man who became a Spanish soldier to kill Englishmen. 'E fought in the Regimento de Hibernia against you when your American colonies bring their revolution. Later 'e is a sailor and when Gravina called for volunteers, Don Enrique comes to command the Rayo.'

  'Most interesting. The Rayo is newly commissioned then?'

  'Yes. And the ship next astern is the Neptuno. She is Spanish. We also 'ave the Neptune. She is', he looked round, 'there, alongside the Pluton…'

  'We also have our Neptune, Lieutenant. She is commanded by Thomas Fremantle. He is rather partial to killing Frenchmen.' Drinkwater smiled. 'We also have our Swiftsure… but all this is most interesting…'

  They spent the morning in this manner, talking always about ships and seamen, Drinkwater making mental notes and storing impressions of the final preparations of the Combined Fleet. He had a vague notion that they might be of value, yet was aware that he would find it impossible to pass them to his friends whose topsails, he knew, were visible from only a few feet up Bucentaure's rigging. But what was more curious was the strong conviction he had formed that it was Villeneuve himself who wished him to see all this.

  A midday meal was served to Drinkwater in his dark and malodourous cabin. Eating alone he was reminded of his time as a midshipman in the equally stinking orlop of the British frigate Cyclops. The thought made him call for Gillespy. The only response was from the sentry, who put a finger to his lips and indicated the boy asleep in a corner of the orlop, curled where one of Bucentaure's massive futtocks met the deck.

  Guillet did not reappear in the afternoon and, after lying down for an hour, Drinkwater rose. The ship had become strangely quiet, the disorder of the forenoon was gone. The sentry let him pass and he went on deck, passing a body of men milling in the lower and upper gun-decks. As he emerged into a watery sunshine he was aware of the admiral's flag at the masthead lifting to seawards; an easterly
wind had come at last!

  On the quarterdeck a reception party which included Captain Magendie, his officers and a military guard was welcoming a short, olive-skinned grandee with a long nose. He courteously swept his hat from his head in acknowledgement of the compliments done him, revealing neatly clubbed hair.

  Lieutenant Guillet hurried across the deck and took Drinkwater's arm. 'Please, Capitaine, is it not for you to be 'ere now.'

  'Who was that man, Lieutenant?' asked Drinkwater suffering himself to be hastened below.

  'Don Frederico Gravina. Now, Capitaine, please you must go to your cabin and to stay.'

  'Why?'

  'Why, Mon Dieu, Capitaine, the order to sail, it is being made.' But the Combined Fleet did not sail. At four o'clock in the afternoon of 17th October the easterly wind fell away to a dead calm, and Drinkwater sat in his tiny cabin listening to the details of Mr Gillespy's family.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nelson's Watch-Dogs

  18-21 October 1805

  Drinkwater woke with the calling of Bucentaure's ship's company. He was denied the privilege of breakfasting with the officers and it was clear that he was not permitted to leave the hutch of a cabin he had been allocated. Nevertheless he was not required to be locked in, and by sitting in the cabin with a page of his journal before him he amused himself by getting Gillespy to attempt to deduce what was going on above them from the noises they could hear.

  To a man who had spent most of his life on board ship this was not difficult, although for Gillespy the task, carried out in such difficult circumstances under the eye of his captain, proved an ordeal. There was a great deal of activity in the dark and stinking orlop deck. Further forward were the damp woollen curtains of the magazine and much of the forenoon was occupied by the barefoot padding past of the Bucentaure's powder monkeys as they scrambled below for the ready-made cartridges. These were supplied by the gunner and his mates whose disembodied hands appeared with their lethal packages through slits in the curtains. Parties of seamen were carrying up cannon balls from the shot lockers and from time to time a gun-captain came down to argue some technicality with the gunner. The junior officers, or aspirants, were also busy, running hither and thither on errands for the lieutenants and other officers.

  'What do you remark as the most significant difference, Mr Gillespy, between these fellows and our own, eh?' Drinkwater asked.

  'Why… I don't know, sir. They make a deal of noise…'

  Drinkwater looked pleased. 'Exactly so. They are a great deal noisier and many officers would judge 'em as inferior because of that; but remark something else. They are also excited and cheerful. I'd say that, just like our fellows, they're spoiling for a fight, wouldn't you?'

  'Yes. I suppose so, sir.' A frown crossed the boy's face. 'Sir?'

  'Mmmm?' Drinkwater looked up from his journal.

  'What will happen to us, sir, if this ship goes into battle?'

  'Well, Mr Gillespy, that's a difficult question. We will not be allowed on deck and so, by the usages of war, will be required to stay here. Now do not look so alarmed. This is the safest place in the ship. Very few shot will penetrate this far and, although the decks above us may be raked, we shall be quite safe. Do not forget that instances of ships actually being sunk by gunfire are rare.

  'So, let us examine the hypothesis of a French victory. If this is the case we shall be no worse off, for we may have extra company and that will make things much the merrier. On the other hand, assuming that it is a British victory, which circumstances, I might add, I have not the slightest reason to doubt, then we shall find ourselves liberated. Even if the ship is not taken we shall almost certainly be exchanged. We shall not be the first officers present in an enemy ship when that ship is attacked by our friends.' He smiled as reassuringly as he could. 'Be of good heart, Mr Gillespy. You may well have something to tell your grandchildren ere long.'

  Gillespy nodded. 'You said that to me before, sir, when the French squadron got out of Rochefort.'

  'Did I? I had forgotten.' The captain took up his pen again and bent over his journal.

  This remark made Gillespy realise the great distance that separated them. He found it difficult to relate to this man who had shown him such kindness after the harshness of Lord Walmsley. In his first days on board Antigone it had seemed impossible that the captain who stood so sternly immobile on the quarterdeck could actually have children of his own. Gillespy could not imagine him as a father. Then he was made aware from the comments of the crew that Drinkwater had done something rather special in getting them out of Mount's Bay and from that moment the boy made it his business to study him. The attentions paid him by the captain had been repaid by a dog-like devotion. Even captivity had seemed tolerable and not at all frightening in the company of Captain Drinkwater. But bereft of that presence, Gillespy had felt all the terrors conceivable to a lonely and imaginative mind. He had implored Quilhampton to request he be allowed to join the captain.

  Quilhampton acceded to the boy's request, aware that their captors were in any event likely to separate him and the midshipmen from Drinkwater. In due course Drinkwater would probably be exchanged and Gillespy might have a better chance with the captain. He and Frey would have to rely upon their own resources. James Quilhampton was determined not to remain long in captivity. Let the Combined Fleet sail, as everyone said they would, and he would make an attempt to escape, for the thought of Catriona spurred him on.

  Now Gillespy waited patiently for Drinkwater to stop writing notes, watching the men of the Bucentaure who messed in the orlop coming below for their midday meal. He listened to their conversation, recognising a word or phrase here and there, and recalling some of the French his Domine had caned into him in Edinburgh all those months ago.

  'I think, sir,' he said after a while in a confidential whisper, 'the wind has failed… They are laughing at one of the Spanish officers who must have come on board… I cannot make out his name… Grav… something.'

  'Gravina?'

  'Yes, yes that is it. Do you know what "manana" means sir, in Spanish?'

  'Er, "tomorrow", I believe, Mr Gillespy, why?'

  'And "al mar" must be something to do with the sea; because that fellow there, with the bright bandana and the ear-rings, he keeps throwing his arm in the air and declaiming "manana al mar".' He frowned again, 'I suppose he's imitating this Spanish officer.'

  'That is most perceptive of you, Mr Gillespy. If you are right then Gravina has been aboard and announced "tomorrow to sea".' Drinkwater paused reflectively, 'Let us hope to God that you are right.'

  He smiled again, encouraging the boy, yet aware that they might not survive the next few days, that ships might not be easily sunk by gunfire but ordinary fire, if it took them, might blow them apart as it had L'Orient at Abukir. Staring at the fire-screens round the entrances to the powder magazines, Drinkwater felt the sweat of pure fear prickle his back. Down here they would be caught like rats in a trap.

  Towards evening Lieutenant Guillet came to see them. His neck linen was grubby and he looked tired after an active day, but he was courteous enough to apologise for ignoring them and clearly in optimistic spirits.

  'Your duty has the greater call upon you than we do, Lieutenant,' said Drinkwater calmly.

  'You are permitted 'alf-an-hour on deck, Capitaine. And you also,' he added to Gillespy, 'and then I am to take you to the General.'

  Drinkwater saw Gillespy frown. 'Admiral Villeneuve, Mr Gillespy. Recall how I told you the French and Spanish use the terms interchangeably.'

  The boy nodded and they followed Guillet on deck. The contrast with the previous day was startling. Amidships Bucentaure's boat had been hoisted on the booms. All the ropes were coiled away on their pins and aloft the robands of the harbour stow had been cast off the sails. A light breeze was again stirring from the eastward. Some of the ships had moved, warped down nearer the islets at the entrance of the harbour. The air of expectancy hanging over the fleet after the e
xertions of the day was almost tangible. The inactivity would now begin to pray on men's minds, and until the order was given to weigh, every man in that vast armada, some twenty thousand souls, would withdraw inside himself to consult the oracles in his heart as to his future in this world.

  Drinkwater felt an odd and quite inexplicable lightness of spirit. Whenever the Bucentaure cleared for action he knew he too would be a victim to fear, but for the moment he felt strangely elated. He was no longer in any doubt that in the next day or so there was going to be a battle.

  After his exercise period, Drinkwater was taken to Villeneuve's cabin. There was no secrecy about the interview; it was conducted in the presence of several other high-ranking officers among whom Drinkwater recognised Flag-Captain Magendie and Villeneuve's Chief-of-Staff, Captain Prigny. Another officer was in Rear-Admiral's uniform. He wore a silver belt around his waist and an air of permanent exasperation.

  'Contre-Amiral Magon… Capitaine de frégate Drinkwater Charles…'

  Magon bowed imperceptibly and regarded Drinkwater with intense dislike. Drinkwater felt he attracted more than his fair share of malice and was not long in discovering that Magon disapproved of Villeneuve's holding Drinkwater on his flagship. Drinkwater's knowledge of French was poor, but Magon's powers of dramatic and expressive gesture were eloquent.

  Villeneuve was mastering his anger and humiliation with difficulty and Drinkwater glimpsed something of the problems he suffered in his tenure of command of the Combined Fleet. Eventually Magon ceased his diatribe, turned in disgust and affected to ignore the rest of the proceedings by staring fixedly out of the stern windows.

  'Captain Drinkwater informs me, gentlemen,' Villeneuve said in English, 'that Nelson's attack will be as I outlined to you in my standing orders leaving Toulon. If you wish to question him further he is at your disposal…'

  Drinkwater opened his mouth to protest that he had done nothing so dishonourable as to reveal Lord Nelson's plan of attack but, seeing the difficulties Villeneuve was under, he shut his mouth again.