“Quite. Are the French succeeding, do you think?”
“They began in 1802 at the armistice, and ever since have been steadily wooing him with advisers and soothing words and now, it’s reported, with guns. Our ambassador there, Arbuthnot, is no match for the French in this game, especially ranged against their General Sebastiani, who is a close friend of Bonaparte. He’s a fellow Corsican and was hand-picked to ingratiate himself to a commanding position, which now, we must grudgingly admit, he has achieved.”
A reluctant smile appeared. “I have the distinct feeling that my first engagement will be among the pavilions and harem of the Topkapi Palace. Am I right?”
“It is always yours to refuse, my lord.”
“Very well. Shall we plan?”
There was remarkably little to discuss. The only operational objective that could in any way be defined was that the French intriguing and influence in Constantinople must at all costs be countered. The stakes were colossaclass="underline" if they succeeded in taking Turkey from the British, Bonaparte would have his highway out of Europe, and falling on India from landward, the end of Britain and its empire would not be long behind.
It was now left to him to travel out as soon as it was possible to do so.
“Oh, Nicholas, darling! Please pay attention, I beg. I was talking about the arboretum. If we plant now, they’ll blossom next summer and what a wonderful show they’ll make. We have only to pull down that old barn and put up one of those new glass houses and-”
“I’m sorry, Cecilia, I was thinking on other things. Shall we go inside?”
It couldn’t be postponed any longer. There was a dispatch cutter leaving from Plymouth for Gibraltar and he dared not miss the chance, not with its speed in the face of the urgency.
“Dearest, you’ll never guess who I met in London.”
“Tell me!”
“The Marquess of Bloomsbury.”
“Oh, how wonderful! Did you tell him-”
“He extends to you every wish for happiness, my dear.”
“Did he-”
“Dear Cecilia,” he broke in. “I don’t know how to-to break this to you.”
“Nicholas?” she said uncertainly, her hand going to her mouth in concern.
“You know his work dealt with diplomatic matters of the highest degree of discretion?”
“Yes, but he never spoke of it.”
“He told me much, you may believe. Enough that I know now the frightful peril that England lies under at this moment.”
“Nicholas, why did he … ?”
“He knows me of old and has been told of Paris, Jersey and Curacao. And since learning of my ennobling he has conceived that … that I am the one best placed to take up his work.”
“You-you mean to be like him, to go about the world and … and …” she said, breathless.
“That is what he desires me to do.”
“You mean to say, to be the new …” She laughed delightedly. “Oh, darling! This is wonderful news! No-it’s marvellous! You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been that you’d be so discontented with a quiet life. This is just what you need.”
She hugged him.
“Then you’re not … ?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m happy for you, can’t you see?”
“Even if it means that I must embark immediately?”
“If it’s an urgent matter there is no question-we must leave without delay.”
“Cecilia. My love. There is no ‘we.’ I go alone. It’s much too dangerous for you, believe me.”
“Nicholas-it has to be ‘we.’ I’m a strong woman and I want to be by your side.”
“Sweetheart, this is no place for the woman I love so dearly. I will not-”
“The marchioness went everywhere it took her husband-why not me? Am I less than she? Are you saying-”
“No. I will not have it, Cecilia. I cannot have my attention diverted with worry and anxiety on your account.”
“You’ve forgotten, Nicholas, that as lady companion I went everywhere with them both. And that included some odious and frightening places, believe me.”
“Oh? You’ve never told me-”
“Because I’ve not wanted to worry you, darling. Look, we’ll be just like them, together we’ll-”
“No. And that’s my last word on it, Cecilia.”
CHAPTER 5
“THEY’RE OUT, SIR!” Curzon said urgently. The first lieutenant’s glass was on the opposite, northern, side of Bahia Cadiz.
L’Aurore was alone, deep in the bay. She had gone in on reconnaissance to steal past the sheltering peninsula of Isla de Leon and look direct into the inner harbour.
It was a very risky manoeuvre, usually done in boats.
Nelson had gone down in legend for joining his boats’ crews and in the brutal hacking to escape the swarming gunboats that always came out to contest such spying.
It rarely happened but there could be, as now, a combination favouring a ship to enter-nothing more than a light frigate, but no gunboats would dare approach her broadside.
Any variation in the weather could quickly spiral into disaster. It had to be a wind from the north: from the east, would be dead foul; from the west would embay and trap the intruder; and from the south would bring opposing frigates out from the port. And the timing of the tide was cruciaclass="underline" if the winds were slight an ingoing tide would set up an adverse current to the southeast while the ebb would see it press to the northwest.
It was an enterprise never encouraged by admirals as the sight of a helpless frigate being taken would shake morale considerably-quite apart from the loss of strength to the fleet-and at the same time greatly raise that of the enemy. Only the most daring of captains would even consider it, but Kydd believed an accurate and timely account of all the assets facing them was worth the risk.
“Wind’s turned fluky,” muttered the sailing master, eyeing the masthead vane. Without the steady north-northeasterly to rely on, they could find themselves perilously clawing their way out.
“A few more minutes only, Mr Kendall,” Kydd said, the big signal telescope steadied over a midshipman’s shoulder as he, like all the officers, took careful note of what they could see on the inside of the peninsula, the great port complex of Puerto Cadiz. It was not only numbers they were after-they counted above thirty ships of size-but their readiness for sea. Sail bent on to the yard was a sure sign that a sally to seaward was in contemplation.
Midshipmen Clinch and Willock, too, were eagerly recording the observations.
“I make it eighteen o’ the vermin,” Curzon rapped, his eyes on the gathering swarm at Rota, opposite. Each gunboat had a single cannon in the bows: taken together, enough fire-power to seriously challenge a frigate.
“They wouldn’t dare!” grunted Kydd. Dillon, at his side, faithfully noted down everything of consequence that was said, whether he understood it or not.
“We’ll be headed if’n the wind backs a point further, sir,” Kendall said, more strongly. The leading edge of every sail was now fluttering; if the wind got past the board-hard canvas it would instantly slap it flat aback and they’d be dead in the water or, worse, a dismasted hulk.
“Sir, I must protest!” he blurted. “We’re at the five-fathom line and I can’t answer should we have to stay about.”
“Very well. We shall wear ship. Now.”
“Sir, that’ll put us damned close to the Vista Hermosa forts,” Curzon spluttered.
He was ignored.
“Hands to stations to wear ship!”
Agility was all. If the treacherous winds backed further they would be in serious trouble.
The order was given. The men on the helm spun the wheel. Others raced down the deck with the lines that swung the big yards in time with their falling off the wind, and going about the long way to take up on the other tack-a manoeuvre that needed much more sea-room than tacking through the eye of the wind.
It brought them within range of the forts.
A heavy thudding began, like the far-off slamming of giant doors. These were big guns in stone emplacements-and they had been sighted in properly along their firing sector.