1805

'I beg pardon, sir.' Even in the darkness Quilhampton was obviously crestfallen.

Drinkwater took a turn or two up and down the deck. He realised that the wind had not yet got up, that his apprehensions were not yet fully justified. 'Mr Q!'

'Sir?'

'Forgive my haste, Mr Q.'

'With pleasure, sir. But I assure you, sir, that I would have called you the instant I thought that the ship was in any danger.'

'It is not the ship that concerns me, James. It is the enemy!'

'The enemy, sir?'

'Yes, the enemy. In an hour from now the wind will be easterly and in two hours from now Missiessy, if he's half the man I think him to be, will be ordering his ships to sea. Now d'you understand?'

'Yes… yes I do. I'll have the watch cast loose the t'gallants ready to set all sail the moment it's light, sir.'

'That's the spirit. And I'll go below and break my fast. I've a feeling that this will be a long day.'

Over his spartan breakfast of skillygolee, coffee and toast, Drinkwater thought over the idea that had germinated from the seeds sown during his extraordinary conversation with Mr Pitt. He knew that he would not consciously have reasoned a grand strategy for the French by himself, but that game of shuttlecock with ideas at Walmer had produced the only convincing answer to the conundrum of Napoleon's intentions. It was clear that the French would not move their vast armies across the Channel until they had a fleet in the vicinity. Now, with Admiral Ver Huel's Dutch ships joining a Combined Franco-Spanish fleet, the pre-posterous element of such a grand design was diminishing. Drinkwater did not attempt to unravel the reasoning behind Pitt's deliberate provocation of Spain. It seemed only to undermine the solid foundation of Britain's defence based upon the Channel Fleet off Brest and the understanding that, if the enemy they blockaded escaped, then every British squadron fell back upon the chops of the Channel. In this grand strategy there still remained the factor of the unexpected. Navigationally the mouth of the Channel was difficult to make, particularly when obstructed by an enemy fleet. For the French Commander-in-Chief a passage round Scotland offered nothing but advantages: prevailing fair winds, a less impeded navigation, the element of surprise and the greater difficulty for the British of watching his movements. In addition the fleets of other nations could be more readily added. Russia, for instance, still not wholly committed to defying the new Emperor of France, perhaps the Danes, and certainly the Dutch. Worst of all was the consideration that the enemy might be in the Strait of Dover while the British waited for them off the Isles of Scilly. And the only place from which to launch such an attack was the West Indies, where the French might rendezvous, blown there by favourable winds to recuperate and revictual from friendly islands.

Nathaniel Drinkwater was not given to flights of wild imagination. He was too aware of the difficulties and dangers that beset every seaman. But during his long years of service intuition and cogent reasoning had served him well. He was reminded of the weary weeks of stalking the Dutch before Camperdown and how conviction of the accuracy of his forebodings had sustained him then. He called Mullender to clear the table and while he waited for the wind to rise he opened his journal, eager to get down this train of logic which had stemmed from some dim perception that lingered from his strange awakening.

8th January, he wrote, and added carefully, aware that he had still not become accustomed to the new year,1805. Off the Ile d'Oléron in a calm. Woke with great apprehension that the day… He paused, scratched out the last word and added: year is pregnant with great events…

'If you are going to record your prophecies,' he muttered to himself, pleased with his improving technique with Elizabeth's pen, 'you might as well make 'em big ones.'

It seems to me that a descent upon the British Isles might best be achieved by the French in first making a rendezvous…

But he got no further. There was a knock at the cabin door and Midshipman Wickham reappeared.

'Lieutenant Quilhampton's compliments, sir, and the wind's freshening from the east.'

The wind did not keep its early promise. By noon Antigone lay becalmed off the He d'Oléron, in full view of the French anchorage and with the tide setting her down towards the Basque Road; at one in the afternoon she had been brought to her anchor and Drinkwater was studying the enemy through his glass from the elevation of the mizen top. Beside him little Mr Gillespy was making notes at the captain's dictation.

'The usual force, Mr Gillespy: Majestueux, four seventy-fours, the three heavy frigates and two brig-corvettes. Nothing unusual in that, eh?' he said kindly.

'No, sir,' the boy squeaked, somewhat nonplussed at finding himself aloft with the captain. Gillespy had not supposed captains ascended rigging. It did not seem part of their function.

'But what makes today of more than passing interest,' Drinkwater continued, mouthing his words sideways as he continued to stare through the glass, 'is that they are taking aboard stores… d'you have that, Mr Gillespy?'

'Stores,' the boy wrote carefully, 'yes, sir.'

'Troops…'

'Troops… yes, sir.'

'And, Mr Gillespy,' Drinkwater paused. The cloudless sky let sunlight pour down upon the stretch of blue water between the green hills of the island and the main. The brilliantly clear air made his task easy and the sunlight glanced off the dull breeches of cannon. There was no doubt in Drinkwater's mind that Missiessy was going to break out to the West Indies and take back those sugar islands over which Britain and France had been squabbling for two generations. 'Artillery, Mr Gillespy, artillery… one "t" and two "ll"s.'

He closed his glass with a snap and turned his full attention to the boy. He was not so very many years older than his own son, Richard.

'What d'you suppose we'd better do now, eh?'

'Tell the admiral, sir?'

'First class, my boy.' Drinkwater swung himself over the edge of the top and reached for the futtocks with his feet. He began to descend, pausing as his head came level with the deck of the top. Gillespy regarded the captain's apparently detached head with surprise.

'I think, Mr Gillespy, that in the coming months you may see things to tell your grandchildren about.'

Midshipman Gillespy stared at the empty air where the captain's head had just been. He was quite bewildered. The idea of ever having grandchildren had never occurred to him.

The wind freshened again at dusk, settling to a steady breeze and bringing even colder air off the continent. Antigone stood offshore in search of Doris and, at dawn on the 9th, Drinkwater spoke to Campbell, informing him of the preparations being made by the French. Two hours later Antigone was alone apart from the distant topgallants of Doris in the north, as Campbell made off to warn Graves.

'Full and bye, Mr Hill, let us stop up that gap. I mislike those cloud banks building up over the land. We may not be able to stop the Frogs getting out but, by God, we must not lose touch with 'em.'

'Indeed not, sir.'

The wind continued light and steady throughout the day and at dawn on the 10th they were joined by the schooner Felix commanded by Lieutenant Richard Bourne, brother of Drinkwater's late lieutenant of the Melusine. Bourne announced that he had met Campbell and told him of Graves's whereabouts. Campbell had ordered Felix to stand by Antigone and act under Drinkwater's directions as a dispatch-boat in the event of Graves not turning up in time to catch Missiessy. Having an independent means of communicating such intelligence as he might glean took a great deal of weight off Drinkwater's mind. He had only to hang onto Missiessy's skirts now, and with such a smart ship and a crew tuned to the perfection expected of every British cruiser, he entertained few worries upon that score.