“We grow old, Prout,” Chase said. “We grow damned old! But not too old to give the Dons and Frenchmen a drubbing, eh?”
“We shall beat ‘em, sir,” Prout said.
Chase beamed at his old shipmate, then went to the quarterdeck, which was thickly crowded with officers who politely removed their hats as Chase and Sharpe were ushered aft past the great wheel and under the poop to the admiral’s quarters, which were guarded by a single marine in a short red jacket crossed by a pair of pipe-clayed belts. The lieutenant opened the door without knocking and led Chase and Sharpe through a small sleeping cabin which had been stripped of its furniture and then, again without knocking, into a massive cabin that stretched the whole width of the ship and was lit by the wide array of stern windows. This cabin had also been emptied of its furniture, so that only a single table was left on the black and white checkered canvas floor. Two massive guns, already equipped with their flintlocks, stood on either side of the table.
Sharpe was aware of two men silhouetted against the stern window, but he could not distinguish which was the admiral until Chase put his hat under his arm and offered a bow to the smaller man who was seated at the table. The light was bright behind the admiral and Sharpe still could not see him clearly and he hung back, not wanting to intrude, but Chase turned and gestured him forward. “Allow me to name my particular friend, my lord. Mister Richard Sharpe. He’s on his way to join the Rifles, but he paused long enough to save me from an embarrassment in Bombay and I’m monstrous grateful.”
“You, Chase? An embarrassment? Surely not?” Nelson laughed and gave Sharpe a smile. “I’m most grateful to you, Sharpe. I would not have my friends embarrassed. How long has it been, Chase?”
“Four years, my lord.”
“He was one of my frigate captains,” Nelson said to his companion, a post captain who stood at his shoulder. “He commanded the Spritely and took the Bouvines a week after leaving my command. I never had the chance to congratulate you, Chase, but I do now. It was a creditable action. You know Blackwood?”
“I’m honored to make your acquaintance,” Chase said, bowing to the Honorable Henry Blackwood who commanded the frigate Euryalus.
“Captain Blackwood has been hanging onto the enemy’s apron strings ever since they left Cadiz,” Nelson said warmly, “and you’ve drawn us together now, Blackwood, so your work’s done.”
“I trust I shall have the honor of doing more, my lord.”
“Doubtless you will, Blackwood,” Nelson said, then gestured at the chairs. “Sit, Chase, sit. And you, Mister Sharpe. Tepid coffee, hard bread, cold beef and fresh oranges, not much of a breakfast, I fear, but they tell me the galley’s been struck.” The table was set with plates and knives among which the admiral’s sword lay in its jeweled scabbard. “How are your supplies, Chase?”
“Low, my lord. Water and beef for two weeks, maybe?”
“‘Twill be long enough, long enough. Crew?”
“I pressed a score of good men from an Indiaman, my lord, and have sufficient.”
“Good, good,” the admiral said, then, after his steward had brought coffee and food to the table, he questioned Chase about his voyage and the pursuit of the Revenant. Sharpe, sitting to the admiral’s left, watched him. He knew the admiral had lost the sight of one eye, but it was hard to tell which, though after a while Sharpe saw that the right eye had an unnaturally large and dark pupil. His hair was white and tousled, framing a thin and extraordinarily mobile face that reacted to Chase’s story with alarm, pleasure, amusement and surprise. He interrupted Chase rarely, though he did stop the tale once to request that Sharpe carve the beef. “And perhaps you’ll cut me some bread as well, Mister Sharpe, as a kindness? My fin, you understand,” and he touched his empty right sleeve that was pinned onto a jacket bright with jeweled stars. “You’re very kind,” he said when Sharpe had obeyed. “Do go on, Chase.”
Sharpe had expected to be awed by the admiral, to be struck dumb by him, but instead he found himself feeling protective of the small man who emanated a fragile air of vulnerability. Even though he was sitting, it was clear he was a small man, and very thin, and his pale, lined face suggested he was prone to sickness. He looked so frail that Sharpe had to remind himself that this man had led his fleets to victory after victory, and that in every fight he had been in the thick of the battle, yet he gave the impression that the slightest breeze would knock him down.
The admiral’s apparent frailty made the most immediate impression on Sharpe, but it was the admiral’s eyes that had the stronger effect, for whenever he looked at Sharpe, even if it was merely to request a small service like another piece of buttered bread, it seemed that Sharpe became the most important person in the world at that moment. The glance seemed to exclude everything and everyone else, as though Sharpe and the admiral were in collusion. Nelson had none of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s coldness, no condescension, and gave no impression of believing himself to be superior; indeed it seemed to Sharpe that at that moment, as the fleet lumbered toward the enemy, Horatio Nelson asked nothing from life except to be seated with his good friends Chase, Blackwood and Richard Sharpe. He touched Sharpe’s elbow once. “This talk must be tedious to a soldier, Sharpe?”
“No, my lord,” Sharpe said. The discussion had moved on to the admiral’s tactics this day and much of it was beyond Sharpe’s comprehension, but he did not care. It was enough to be in Nelson’s presence and Sharpe was swept by the little man’s infectious enthusiasm. By God, Sharpe thought, but they would not just beat the enemy fleet this day, but pound it into splinters, hammer it so badly that no French or Spanish ship would ever dare sail the world’s seas again. Chase, he saw, was reacting the same way, almost as though he feared Nelson would weep if he did not fight harder than he had ever fought before.
“Do you put your men in the tops?” Nelson asked, clumsily attempting to remove the peel of an orange with his one hand.
“I do, my lord.”
“I do fear that the musket wads will fire the sails,” the admiral said gently, “so I would rather you did not.”
“Of course not, my lord,” Chase said, immediately yielding to the modest suggestion.
“Sails are only linen, after all,” Nelson said, evidently wanting to explain himself further in case Chase had been offended by the order. “And what do we put inside tinderboxes? Linen! It is horribly flammable.”
“I shall respect your wishes gladly, my lord.”
“And you comprehend my greater purpose?” the admiral asked, referring to his earlier discussion of tactics.
“I do, my lord, and applaud it.”
“I shall not be happy with less than twenty prizes, Chase,” Nelson said sternly.
“So few, my lord?”
The admiral laughed and then, as another officer entered the cabin, stood. Nelson was at least a half-foot shorter than Sharpe who, standing like the others, had to stoop beneath the beams, but the newcomer, who was introduced as the Victory’s captain, Thomas Hardy, was a half-foot taller than Sharpe again and, when he spoke to Nelson, he bent over the little admiral like a protective giant.
“Of course, Hardy, of course,” the admiral said, then smiled at his guests. “Hardy tells me it is time to strike down these bulkheads. We are being evicted, gentlemen. Shall we retreat to the quarterdeck?” He led his guests forward, then, seeing Sharpe hang back, he turned and took his elbow. “Did you serve under Sir Arthur Wellesley in India, Sharpe?”
“I did, my lord.”
“I met him after his return and enjoyed a notable conversation, though I confess I found him rather frightening!” The admiral’s tone made Sharpe laugh, which pleased Nelson. “So you’re joining the 95th, are you?”
“I am, my lord.”
“That is splendid!” The admiral, for some reason, seemed particularly pleased by this news. He ushered Sharpe through the door, then walked him across to the hammock nettings on the larboard side of the quarterdeck. “You’re fortunate indeed, Mister Sharpe. I know William Stewart and count him among my dearest and closest friends. You know why his rifle regiment is so good?”