'There is nothing more we can do, gentlemen, until his lordship arrives.'
During the first week of May the wind blew westerly through the Strait of Gibraltar, foul for Nelson slipping out into the Atlantic. Drinkwater decided to take advantage of it and enter the Strait. He was extremely anxious about the passage of time as day succeeded day and Nelson failed to appear. If there was no news of Nelson at Gibraltar, he reasoned, he could wait there and still catch his lordship. In addition Gibraltar might have news carried overland, despite the hostility of the Spanish.
Off Tarifa they spoke to a Swedish merchant ship which had just left Gibraltar. There was no news of Nelson but much of a diplomatic nature. Russia was again the ally of Great Britain and Austria was dallying with Britain's overtures. However, there was an even more disturbing rumour that Admiral Ganteaume had sailed from Brest. That evening the wind fell light, then swung slowly into the east. At dawn the following day the topgallants of a fleet were to be seen, and at last Drinkwater breakfasted in the great cabin of Victory, in company with Lord Nelson.
It was a hurried meal. Drinkwater told Nelson all he knew, invited to share the admiral's confidence as much for the news he brought as for the high regard Nelson held him in after his assistance at the battle of Copenhagen.
'My dear Drinkwater, I have been in almost perpetual darkness as Hardy here will tell you. I had for some time considered the West Indies a likely rendezvous for the fleets of France and Spain. Would to God I had had some news. I have been four months, Drinkwater, without a word, four months with nothing from the Admiralty. They tell me Melville is out of office… My God, I hoped for news before now.' The admiral turned to his flag-captain. 'How far d'you think he's gone, Hardy?'
'Villeneuve, my Lord?'
'Who else, for God's sake!'
Hardy seemed unmoved by his lordship's bile and raised his eyebrows reflectively, demonstrating a stolidity that contrasted oddly with the little admiral's feverish anxiety. 'He has a month's start. Even the French can cross the Atlantic in a month.'
'A month. The capture of Jamaica would be a blow which Bonaparte would be happy to give us!'
'Do you follow him there, my Lord?' Drinkwater asked.
'I had marked the Toulon Fleet for my own game, Captain; you say Orde has fallen back from Cadiz?'
'It seems so, my Lord.'
'Then Gardner will not greatly benefit from my ships.' He paused in thought, then appeared to make up his mind. He suddenly smiled, his expression flooded with resolution. He whipped the napkin from his lap and flung it down on the table, like a gauntlet.
'They're our game, Hardy, damn it. Perhaps none of us would wish exactly for a West India trip; but the call of our country is far superior to any consideration of self. Let us try and bag Villeneuve before he does too much damage, eh gentlemen?'
'And the Mediterranean, my Lord?' asked Hardy.
'Sir Richard Bickerton, Tom, we'll leave him behind to guard the empty stable and watch Salcedo's Dons in Cartagena.' Nelson raised his coffee cup and they toasted the enterprise.
'You may keep us company to Cadiz, Captain, I shall look in there and see what Orde is about before I sail west.'
Orde was not off Cadiz, but his storeships were, and Nelson plundered them freely in Lagos Bay. Then intelligence reached the British fleet from Admiral Donald Campbell in the Portuguese Navy that confirmed Drinkwater's information. Campbell also brought the news that a British military expedition with a very weak escort under Admiral Knight was leaving Lisbon, bound into the Mediterranean. Nelson therefore ordered his foulest-bottomed battleship, the Royal Sovereign, together with the frigate Antigone, to see the fleet of transports clear of the Strait of Gibraltar.
Thus it was with something of a sense of anti-climax and of belonging to a mere side-show that Antigone's log for the evening of 11th May 1805 read: Bore away in company R-Ad Knight's convoy. Cape St Vincent NW by N distant 7 leagues. Parted company Lord Nelson. Lord Nelson's fleet chasing to the westward.
Chapter Thirteen
Calder's Action
'Fog, sir.'
'So I see.' Captain Drinkwater nodded to Lieutenant Quilhampton as he came on deck and stared round the horizon. The calm weather of the last few days had now turned cooler; what had first been a haze had thickened to mist and now to fog. 'Take the topsails off her, Mr Q. No point in chafing the gear to pieces.' So, her sails furled and her rigging dripping, Antigone lay like a log upon the vast expanse of the Atlantic which heaved gently to a low ground swell that told of a distant wind but only seemed to emphasise their own immobility.
Captain and third lieutenant fell to a companionable pacing of the deck, discussing the internal details of the ship.
'Purser reported another rotten cask of pork, sir.'
'From the batch shipped aboard off Ushant?'
'Yes, sir.'
'That makes seven.' Drinkwater cursed inwardly. He had been delighted to have been victualled and watered off Ushant after returning from the Strait of Gibraltar and Admiral Knight's convoy. Lord Gardner had been particular to ensure that all the cruising frigates were kept well stocked, but if they found many more bad casks of meat then his lordship's concern might be misplaced.
'I was just wondering, sir,' said Quilhampton conversationally, 'whether I'd rather be here than off Cadiz with Collingwood. Which station offers the best chance of action?'
'Difficult to say, James,' said Drinkwater, dropping their usual professional formality. 'When Gardner detached Collingwood to blockade Cadiz it was because he thought that Villeneuve and Gravina might have already returned there. When the report proved false, Collingwood sent two battleships west to reinforce Nelson and returned us to Calder. Opinion seems to incline towards keeping as many ships to the westward of the Bay of Biscay as possible. Prowse of Sirius told me the other day that both Calder and the Ushant squadron have virtually raised their separate blockades and are edging westwards in the hope of catching Villeneuve.'
'D'you think it will affect us, sir?'
Drinkwater shrugged. 'Not if my theory is right. Villeneuve will head more to the north and pass round Scotland. Besides, we don't know if Nelson caught up with him. Perhaps there has already been a battle in the West Indies.' He paused. 'What is it, James?'
Quilhampton frowned. 'I thought I heard… no, it's nothing. Wait! There it is again!'
Both men paused. As they listened the creaking of Antigone's gear seemed preternaturally loud. 'Gunfire!'
'Wait!' Drinkwater laid his hand on Quilhampton's arm. 'Wait and listen.' Both men leaned over the rail, to catch the sound nearer the water, unobstructed by the noises of the ship. The single concussion came again, followed at intervals by others. 'Those are minute guns, James! And since we know the whereabouts of Calder…'
'Villeneuve?'
'Or Nelson, perhaps. But we must assume the worst. My theory is wrong if you are right. And they have a wind. Perhaps we will too in an hour.'
He looked aloft at the pendant flying from the mainmast head. It was already beginning to lift a trifle. Drinkwater crossed the deck and stared into the binnacle. The compass card oscillated gently but showed clearly that the breeze was coming from the west.