'Indeed I do.' Nelson paused and reflected a moment. 'Captain Drinkwater, I am obliged to you. I am reorganising my fleet. Rear-Admiral Louis is here, in the Canopus and I am attaching you to his squadron which is to leave to victual in Gibraltar. I know that you have come from there and I wish that you should station your frigate to the eastward of The Rock. I apprehend that Salcedo may break out from Cartegena and I am in my usual desperation for want of frigates.'
The order came like a blow to Drinkwater and his face must have shown something of his disappointment. 'My dear Drinkwater, I have no other means of keeping the fleet complete in provisions and water, but by this means. You may return with Louis but I cannot afford to have him cut off from my main body.'
Drinkwater subdued his disappointment. 'I understand perfectly, my Lord,' he said.
Nelson came round the table to escort Drinkwater to the door with his customary civility and in a gesture that made intimates of all his subordinates.
'We shall have a battle, Drinkwater. I know it. I feel it. And we shall all do our duty to the greater glory of our King and Country!'
And Drinkwater was unaccountably moved by the sincere conviction of this vehement little speech.
Drinkwater looked astern. The sails of Rear-Admiral Louis's squadron were purple against the sunset. Drinkwater wondered if Lord Walmsley had transferred from the Leopard with the rear-admiral. He did not greatly care. What he felt most strongly was a sense of anti-climax, and he felt it was common throughout all of Louis's squadron. He crossed the deck and looked at the log.
Thursday 3rd October 1805.6 p.m. Bore up from the Straits of Gibraltar in company Canopus, Rear-Ad. Louis, Queen, Spencer, Zealous and Tigre. Wind westerly strong breeze. At sunset handed t'gallants.
'Very well, Mr Fraser, call me if you are in any doubt whatsoever.'
'Aye, aye, sir.' From his tone Fraser sounded depressed too.
Chapter Sixteen
Tarifa
'It's a ship's launch, sir.'
'I believe you to be right, Mr Hill. Very well, back the mizen topsail until she comes up.'
The knot of curious officers waited impatiently. For over a week Antigone had cruised east of Gibraltar, half hoping and half fearing that Salcedo would try and effect a juncture with Villeneuve. The only thing that could satisfy them would be orders to return to Cadiz. Was that what the launch brought them?
'There's a lieutenant aboard, sir,' observed Fraser. 'Aye, and a wee midshipman.'
The launch lowered its mainsail and rounded under Antigone's stern. A moment later a young lieutenant scrambled over the rail and touched his hat to Drinkwater.
'Captain Drinkwater?'
'Yes. You have brought us orders?'
The officer held out a sealed packet which Drinkwater took and retired with to his cabin. In a fever of impatience he opened the packet. A covering letter from Louis instructed him to comply with the enclosed orders and wished him every success in his 'new appointment'. Mystified, he tore open Nelson's letter.
Victory
Off Cadiz
10th October 1805
My Dear Drinkwater
I am sensible of the very great services rendered by you before Copenhagen and the knowledge that you were exposed to, and suffered from, the subsequent attack on Boulogne. It is your name that I call to mind at this time. Poor Sir Robert Calder has been called home to stand trial for his actions in fuly last. I cannot find it in me to send him in a frigate and am depriving the fleet of the Prince of Wales to do honour to him. Brown of the Ajax and Letchmere of the Thunderer are also to go home as witnesses and it is imperative I have experienced captains in these ships. Leave your first lieutenant in command. Louis has instructions to transfer a lieutenant from one of his ships. You may bring one of your own, together with two midshipmen, but no more. These orders will come by the Entreprenante cutter, but she has orders to return immediately. Therefore hire a barca longa and join Thunderer without delay.
Nelson and Brontë
'God bless my soul!' He was to transfer immediately into a seventy-four! 'How damnably providential!' he muttered, then recalled himself. He would be compelled to leave most of his effects…
'Mullender!' He began bawling orders. 'Rogers! Pass word for the first lieutenant!' He sat down and wrote out a temporary commission for Rogers, interrupting his writing to shout additional wants to his steward. Then he shouted for Tregembo and sent him off with a bewildering series of orders without an explanation.
Rogers knocked and entered.
'Come in, Sam. I am writing out your orders. You are to take command. This lieutenant is staying with you. I am transferring to Thunderer. You may send over my traps when you rejoin the fleet… Hey! Tregembo! Pass word for my coxswain, damn it! Ah, Tregembo, there you are. Tell Mr Q and Midshipmen Frey and Gillespy to pack their dunnage… oh, yes, and you too… Sam, set course immediately for Gibraltar. Take that damned launch in tow… Come, Sam, bustle! Bustle!' He shooed the first lieutenant out of the cabin. Rogers's mouth gaped, but Drinkwater took little notice. He was trying to think of all the essential things he would need, amazed at what he seemed to have accumulated in eighteen months' residence.
'Mullender! God damn it, where is the fellow?'
He would take Frey because he was useful, and Gillespy out of pity. He could not leave the child to endure Rogers's rough tongue. James Quilhampton he would have to take. If he did not he doubted if Quilhampton, like Tregembo, would ever forgive him the omission.
Antigone hove to off Europa Point and Drinkwater and his party transferred to the launch. The midshipman in command of the boat hoisted the lugsails and set his course for Gibraltar. Drinkwater looked back to see the hands swarming aloft.
'God bless my soul!' he said again. The cheer carried to him over the water and he stood up and doffed his hat. An hour later, still much moved by the sudden change in his circumstances, he stood before Louis.
'Sorry to lose you, Drinkwater, but I wish you well. I am fearful that my ships will miss the battle and I told Lord Nelson so, but…' the admiral shrugged his shoulders. 'No matter. I have hired a local lugger to take you down the coast. It is all that is available but the passage will not be long and you will not wish to delay for something more comfortable, eh?'
'Indeed not, sir. I am obliged to you for your consideration.'
By that evening, in a fresh westerly breeze, the barca longa was beating out of Gibraltar Bay. Below, in what passed for a cabin, Drinkwater prepared to sleep in company with Quilhampton and his two midshipmen.
'We must make the best of it, gentlemen,' he said, but he need not have worried. The events of the day had tired him and, shorn for a time of the responsibilities of command, he fell into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by a sharp noise and a sudden shouting. Against the side of the lugger something heavy bumped.
'By God!' he shouted, throwing his legs clear of the bunk, 'there's something alongside!' In the darkness he heard Quilhampton wake. 'For God's sake, James, there's something wrong!' The unmistakable sound of a scuffle was going on overhead and suddenly it fell quiet. Drinkwater had tightened the belt of his breeches and had picked up a pistol when the hatch from the deck above was thrown back and the grey light of dawn flooded the mean space.