Alternate Generals (32 page)

"But can we afford to give him any advantage?"

"We'll soon see, Captain, we'll soon see. All I ask for is a victory, no more. But I would dearly love to see Clara again." Sweet Clara, he thought, and he remembered the first time he saw her.

Nelson walked up the stone path and knocked, tentatively, on the heavy wooden door. He was not prepared for what he saw when it opened. Standing before him was a stunning girl, about five feet tall with bright black eyes and hair to match. He stared at the dark haired vision in front of him, unable to speak.

"
Oui?
" the young girl asked, then noticed his uniform. "Oh, you are English. You must be Lieutenant Nelson."

"No, my dear," came a familiar voice from inside. The doctor came out and hugged his friend. "Look at his shoulders. This is
Capitaine
Nelson! How have you been,
mon ami
? It has been too long. You look very bad. The fever has returned? But I talk too much. Come inside. Clara will bring you some wine."

They went into the house and Claude motioned Nelson to a large, soft chair in a brightly sunlit room overlooking a garden exploding with color.

The Englishman uttered his first words. "You, at least, are looking very well, Claude. Living on land agrees with you."

"You still do not understand, do you? It is not the land, it is the food. I am surprised that anyone can live on the . . . the
merde
, that they serve in the English Navy. Any navy for that matter. Salt beef and pork years old. Years! And the suet! So much fat. For such a brave man you have a very sensitive system. If you do not eat a proper diet you will always be ill. If you live."

"Calm down, Papa," said a sweet voice. Clara had brought the wine and Nelson, once again, stared as if in rapture. She noticed his attention and rewarded him with a smile.

Nelson looked at Clara but addressed Claude. "When you first invited me to your home, you said, 'If you want to see beauty, come to Paris.' I see now that you could not have made a truer statement."

Clara blushed and returned to the kitchen. Nelson followed her with his gaze, then looked at the doctor who was trying to hide his smirk.

Claude held up his glass and offered a toast. "To good friends, and better wine!"

After they both had drained and refilled their glasses he went on. "So, my friend. It has been four years. What have you been doing?"

"I just returned from hell. Actually Honduras. But you're right. The fever returned. It was your words that brought me through once more, Claude. But let me start from the beginning. I was made post-captain back in '79. They gave me a command, a 28-gun merchantman that sailed like a turtle with only three legs. I took her to Quebec and got into some trouble. We captured a poor American fisherman whose only way to feed his family was the pitiful boat we took. I released him with his vessel, but my acting second lieutenant, a man called Hardy, reported me to the admiralty. He was mad about not getting his prize money. I had to endure a court-martial. The only outcome was a reprimand and lecture about following orders by that windbag, Sandwich, but it was humiliating. Then there were a few cruises in the West Indies. I really caused a stir there. I confiscated all the American merchantmen for not paying duties due. Everyone was against me but I couldn't just sit there and watch the corruption. I figured that either I deserved to be sent out of the service or be noticed for what I was doing."

"And which was it? I see you wear your uniform still so you must have been noticed."

"I was noticed indeed! Again I had to face a court-martial. I was cleared of all charges but am being sued by the traders."

"Surely your government will back you. Even thick-headed bureaucrats understand the value of a good officer."

"I don't know, Claude. I don't have the right titles or connections. In my country men are not judged by merit but by bloodline. Again and again I've watched some feather-headed macaroni get a plum command while I got passed over, just because they are landed and titled. When I was a midshipman there was a saying, 'Aft, the most honor, forward the better man.' I've learned that, in our service at least, it is too often true. The 'officer class' is rarely worthy of the men they command."

"Well, in any case, you are here now and must not think of such things. There are many in my country who feel the same as you about the nobility. There may be changes in the wind but, while you stay with me, there is only friendship and . . ." he smiled wryly and glanced at the kitchen where his daughter had retreated, "Who knows?"

Four months he had spent with the Dupres that summer. Enough time to rejuvenate his emotions, recover his health and, most of all, fall in love. Clara, dear Clara . . .

Captain Pierre Gaspard gestured with disgust at the leading ships in their fleet. "The Spaniards! They are incompetent fools! Look how they blunder. A snake could form a straighter line."

"Exactly, Pierre," the admiral replied. "That is why I put them in the lead. I am using them as bait. Collingwood will not be able to resist the opportunity to engage. And, while the Spaniards are miserable at maneuvering, they mount so many guns that they can't help but do some damage. Don't forget my order for every ship to aim for the hulls. I am counting on them to draw the fire of enough of the English fleet for us to destroy the rest. Then we will help the Spanish to finish their task.

"Even now, Collingwood moves into position," Nelson observed. "Look there. He's splitting his line! It is just as I hoped!" Then he brought up his spyglass and carefully examined the enemy fleet. "The fifth ship in the closer line. I believe it's the
Victory
. That's Hardy's ship." He brought the glass back down and turned to Gaspard.

"Captain," he said speaking imperiously. "When battle is joined, you will make sure we engage the
Victory
."

"
Oui
, Admiral. If it can be done, we will do it."

Nelson brought the glass back up and studied the enemy ship. Hardy, you bastard. Now we will give you a chance for prize money. His thoughts returned to those terrible days back home after that last miserable cruise and how Claude welcomed him back to Paris.

"Nelson, Nelson, my dear friend!" Claude's bear hug was squeezing the air out of the Englishman. "Too many years. Too many years! I have missed you. Please come in."

Nelson welcomed the chair in his weakened state and gratefully accepted a glass of wine. "Thank you. Thank you so much. It is very good to see you. I'm afraid I come not as a guest but as a refugee. There is so much that I must ask of you."

"Bah. There is nothing I would not give you, joyfully! But first I will command you as your doctor. You look like a corpse. Your eyes are red with puffy bags, your skin looks like yellow wax. And you are so thin! First wash, food and rest. And then we will talk."

After he was washed, fed and rested, Nelson felt like a new man. He joined Claude who was sitting in the garden. "Where is . . . ?"

"Clara? Ah, you do not know. It was many years you have been away. She waited, but . . ." He held up his palms, "Life must go on. Two years ago she married my good friend, Jean Prudhomme, a very influential statesman. It is true that he is my age, but he loves Clara very much and has the means to give her a good life. When you are feeling better, I will take you to visit them. I know she will be delighted. And Jean, I think, you will like very much. Now you must tell me how you come to be in this pitiful condition."

"More pitiful now, since I know of Clara's marriage. I wanted to come back sooner, I wanted to ask you for her hand, but I did not wish to return until I was able to support her. I'm afraid my financial situation went from bad to worse. You remember that matter concerning the American traders? Well, they went to court and got a judgment against me for twenty thousand pounds. I appealed to the treasury for support but they keep putting me off. The admiralty was no help either. You remember that fellow, Hardy, that I told you about? The one who reported me for releasing a prize? Well, at the time, we exchanged some words. And besides calling him a rat bugger, I also gave him a poor report. He was, after all, a mediocre officer. Apparently he had some important friends in Parliament and had them speak poorly about me to my superiors. Nothing official, but you know how these things work. A man's merit and character are far less important than his inherited position. I wish the whole lot of them would choke on their scones." He realized his tone had turned bitter and apologized. "Please, Claude, forgive me. I do not wish to burden you."

The doctor was smiling at him. "No need to apologize, my friend. I understand your feelings. Jean, Clara's husband, will enjoy talking to you about this. As I told you, he is a very important man and will likely emerge as a leader in the near future. But we will discuss that later. Tell me more of your troubles."

"There were other financial problems. My fortune, God knows, has grown worse for the service: so much for serving my country. I sat around for three years waiting for a command. I even had to watch that bastard Hardy, my junior, take command of a 64-gun ship-of-the-line; one that was promised to me! Debt started piling up. Then, last month, my dear sister Ann died. There was no longer any reason for me to remain in England. So, with the certainty of debtor's prison looming in my future, I come to you for succor."

Claude looked thoughtful. "I may be able to arrange a loan . . ."

"No. I want no money. I will never pay one shilling of that judgment. I placed my head on the block for the King, for what? I have always felt that it is much better to serve an ungrateful country, than to give up your fame. But I have not even been able to serve. What I need is help establishing myself. I am not returning to England, Claude."

"But what of your career?"

"My career in the English Navy is over. Hardy saw to that. What I hope for now is to be placed in command of a merchantman, or even a privateer. I do prefer a man-o'-war."

The doctor was looking at his garden, watching a praying mantis devour a dragonfly. "Yes. You would be most effective in a warship. You talked about serving an ungrateful country. What about serving a grateful one?"

"France?"

"We war now with the Russians in the Mediterranean. What if I could arrange for you to command, say, a frigate?"

"You could do this?" A thousand thoughts raced through Nelson's head.

"No promises. But, as I said, Jean is very powerful."

The sound of guns brought him back from his reverie. "The Spaniards have opened fire, Admiral."

"Yes, Captain. With so many bloody guns you would think that they should be able to hit something." In the distance he could see the smoke surrounding the huge Spanish battle ships. The rapid pounding booms from their guns were answered by the English bow-chasers.

"Should we give the signal to fire, Admiral?"

Nelson turned the glass toward the line of ships approaching. "No. Not yet. I want to wait until they are fully committed." He could see the tension in Gaspard's face.

"Waiting is always the worst!" the captain said. "The English have been crushing us for so long. Just once, I would like to be part of a victorious fleet action. The Nile was a nightmare!"

The admiral lowered the spyglass and faced his friend. "Collingwood will soon see that this will be no Nile. We are not anchored and are far from unprepared. No, Pierre. This will be no Nile!"

A gun from the lead enemy ship sounded, followed by a splash and a dull thud. "Forward hull struck above the waterline," came the bosun's shouted report. "No damage. The bounce took most of the kill out of it."

Nelson knew there would be many more, with much greater effect, but was more concerned about his ships carrying out the maneuvers he had organized. That was the key.

A few minutes later he gave the order. "Fly the signal. All ships to fire." Then as an aside to Pierre, "Let ours be the first."

His words were barely out when the roar of the broadside from the
Bucentaure
, his flagship, filled all his hearing while the deck below him shook. "Now we are engaged, Captain. Now all is in the hands of God."

"We are in your hands, Admiral. And we believe in you. We believe that you will win a great victory for
l'Empereur
."

"I am not fighting this battle for
l'Empereur
, Captain. I'm fighting it for the men. Whatever governments do, it is always the men who suffer. These are my men and I will give them a victory."

The mention of the Emperor brought him back to the first time he met Bonaparte.

M. Jean Prudhomme, Minister of the Interior, was in the habit of throwing elaborate dinner parties, and this was no exception. Nelson had just returned from a successful cruise in the Ionian Sea and was looking forward, more than anything else, to holding Clara's vibrant body tonight after all the guests had left. For the last two years now, he had been welcome, even expected, to stay with the Prudhommes whenever he was not at sea. He relished the command that Jean arranged for him, especially since it kept him out of the country during the worst part of the revolution. Nelson's actions against the Russians and the Turks had been victorious and had increased his wealth and fame. But he was most grateful to the Frenchman for the tolerant attitude he had regarding Clara. France was a better place to have an affair than England. Not only did Jean allow Nelson and Clara's indiscretions, he encouraged them. In addition, the minister had taken pride in introducing him to many important people. Nelson had become quite popular and was thriving in the glory. Although the sight in one eye had been lost, his happiness was not diminished.

"Tell me, Captain Nelson," said a rather obese woman dressed in a blue velvet gown and bedecked with a rainbow of thumb-sized jewels. "Is it true that your poor eye was injured fighting off an entire Turkish fleet?" Her enormous breasts managed to violate all the laws of physics by not flying out of her low neckline as she puffed her chest towards him.