Alternate Generals (33 page)

"Er, well, yes. I mean no!" He was somewhat distracted by her charms. "I mean I did get wounded in that engagement, but it was hardly an entire fleet. Actually there were only five vessels and three of them were brigs. It is true that we were outgunned by the two frigates but they were, after all, Turks. Their gunnery was atrocious and as for seamanship, well, I was able to put my frigate,
Liberté
, between the enemy frigates and half their shots went into their own ships. Two of the brigs became entangled and missed most of the fight. Then it was just a matter of pounding the frigates until they lost all maneuverability. The first struck her colors in only a short time, her captain proved to be a whining coward, but the other was tenacious. After knocking down all her masts we finally had to board. That's when I got hit. As I charged on to their deck, they let fly with a nine-pounder. Fortunately for me they were still firing round shot and I was missed by the ball which hummed past my ear and knocked my foremast jack on the head, poor fellow. But I caught some red-hot wadding in my eye.

"Once the second frigate surrendered—we had to kill the captain—it was a simple matter to catch and take the brigs."

"Ooh," the woman sighed, impossibly pumping her bust out even more. "Five ships captured by just one! Emil! Come here and meet Captain Nelson!"

Nelson only had to repeat the story three more times, never tiring of the attention, before it was time for dinner to be served. He was seated at the huge dinner table across from a dynamic young artillery officer who was expounding about the prowess of the army.

"Well-trained and disciplined soldiers, given enough supplies and decent commanders, are all you need to win a campaign," the officer proclaimed. "Of course, it must be properly balanced with cavalry and artillery. Is this not so?" He addressed his last question to Nelson.

The naval man finished his wine, then refilled his glass as well as that of his dinner companion. "Well, Major Buonaparte, I do agree that training and discipline are essential to any military endeavor. But you left out sea power. Granted, certain landlocked theaters do not require a navy. But in Europe, at least, the seas are as important as the land."

"That is preposterous!" the major boomed, obviously feeling the effect of the wine. "It is the army that is supreme. There are limited occasions that support from the sea can help. But to imply . . .
Mon Dieu
!" His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to a fixed point behind Captain Nelson. "Over there, in the red dress," he muttered.

Nelson turned around and saw a voluptuous blond woman talking with one of the ministers. "Yes, indeed," he nodded in agreement. "It seems, Major, that we agree on one topic."

"Is she not the most beautiful vision to grace the earth? Look at that bosom! Surely Helen of Troy has been reincarnated."

"She is exquisite," replied Nelson. "But I must contest your belief that she is the most beautiful."

"Not the most beautiful?" Buonaparte was angry now and his eyes flashed with a violent flame. "And who, Englishman, would you say is finer?"

The captain remained calm and gestured toward Clara, who was seated at the head of the table.

Buonaparte looked to see the wife of their host, then looked back at Nelson and immediately softened his stance. "
Oui
,
Capitaine
. I understand. I see that you are smitten and will not press my point. One can not profit from arguing beauty with a man who is in love." He raised his glass. "Come, my friend, let us drink to
l'amour
."

"To
l'amour
," Nelson agreed and drained his glass.

That had been back in '94. It wasn't until four years later that he had an opportunity to speak with
l'Empereur
again. Nelson was sailing
Liberté
toward the eastern Mediterranean. He had been cruising south of Greece when he heard about the destruction of the French fleet at the battle of the Nile. He was also given a dispatch with rendezvous coordinates where he was to pick up Buonaparte, now General Napoleon Bonaparte. The general had been stranded in Egypt as a result of the disaster.

"Does anyone on this ship know these waters, Lieutenant Gaspard?"

"Henri St. Jaques, the master's mate. He used to sail on a merchantman that met with black marketeers along this shore. He said to watch out for the shoal at the north end of the bay. Shall I call him, Captain?"

"No, Pierre. Just make sure the helmsman is aware of it. Are the boats ready?"

"
Oui
. The crews are all strong and well armed. I will lead this one?"

"No. I will take it in myself." Not even his first lieutenant knew the purpose of this landing, he thought. They had to get in and out quickly, without the locals knowing. If it became known who was hiding in their little town, they would riot, or worse.

The boats were lowered and, with only the faint glow of the crescent moon, were rowed toward shore. The boats ground gently against the rocky beach without incident. Only a few minutes passed before a hushed voice could be heard.

" 'Allo? Who are you?"

"It is Nelson of the
Liberté
."

"Ah. Thank God! Come, bring your men. We must hurry. The general is hiding in a cellar. Enemy agents know he is in this town and have hired local mercenaries."

They followed the man into the town through a winding maze of narrow streets. "Here," he said, pointing to a deep crack in the side of a building. "General!" he called quietly, "our people have come. It is Nelson."

There was some grunting and soft curses, then a figure emerged from the hole. Nelson realized that it must have been the general, but he was so filthy and wrapped in rags as to be unrecognizable.

"There isn't a moment to be lost," the captain said and led the way back toward the boats.

They made it all the way to the beach before the attack came. A large group of men had waited in ambush, hoping to catch the whole landing party with the general as well. They leaped out of the shadows firing muskets, then screamed and charged, fiercely wielding scimitars. Nelson was struck in the right elbow with a musket ball and went down immediately. The others rallied to his side and managed to beat back the savage but disorganized attackers.

The captain was helped to his feet while one of his men finished tying a tourniquet on his arm. "We must keep moving. There will be more soon. Into the boats!" He stayed in command until they were back on the
Liberté
.

"Take her out to sea, Pierre," he ordered, then collapsed.

When he awoke, he heard someone talking in his cabin. He tried to sit up but there was a severe pain in his arm. Then he realized that he had no right arm. His groaning alerted the others in the cabin that he was conscious.

"I owe you a great debt, Captain," said a somewhat familiar voice. "I also owe you an apology."

"Apology, General?" asked Nelson in a weak voice.

"
Oui
. The first time we met you argued that sea power was important. In my ignorance I disagreed. Since then I have learned of my folly. Even before the Nile defeat I was haunted by your words. Now I see that naval strength is vital. Vital! I must have a strong navy!"

Nelson smiled. "Apology accepted. I wish I could be there to see it."

"Be there? You will be in command! I have followed your record. You are brilliant! The biggest problem in the French navy is that it has only idiots to command it. Villeneuve lost my whole fleet with his bungling."

"General Bonaparte," Nelson said, with an ironic smile. "There is no place in any navy for a one-armed, one-eyed admiral."

"Pah! You are a better man as you are than any whole admiral in the world. This I will not argue. We will build a new fleet, a better one, and you will command it. That's all. Now rest."

Admiral Nelson watched the approaching English ships with a detached air. Seven years, he thought. His fleet had been seven years in the making, and now he believed that it was the best in the world. All his efforts convincing Napoleon to channel some funds into the navy paid off. It was amazing what a difference decent food and supplies made. It's true, the English sailors had more battle experience. But he had personally overseen the training programs and knew his men were up for this task.

"The lead ship is starting to wear, Admiral," said Captain Gaspard as he peered through his glass.

Nelson looked through his own to confirm, then moved his sighting farther forward to check on the Spanish squadron. He could see that they were fully engaged, now, in a ship-to-ship fight. "Look at the
Santissima Trinidad
, Pierre."

The captain also viewed the scene. "My God, Admiral. They are being hammered by three English battleships. See how they fight! All four decks firing both sides. What an action! But how long can they stand it?"

"Not even that great floating fortress will endure long under such combined fire. As you can see, the English have positioned themselves so that at least one ship can rake the
Santissima
at all times. But come. We have our own battle to fight. Are the midshipmen prepared to carry out the special orders?"

"All is in readiness, but the men are reluctant. After all, only a madman would set fire to his own ship and cut down a yardarm during a fight."

The admiral smiled. "Only a madman. Perhaps they are right. But they will carry out the order when it is given? The timing on this is crucial."

"Yes, Admiral. They are your men and would leap out of the rigging if you ordered it."

"Well, let us hope it doesn't come to that." He watched the lead ship of the enemy, the
Leviathan
, turn and start down the French line, vigorously engaging his own lead ship. This continued with the second English ship, then the third. When
Leviathan
was in range, its bow guns opened up on the
Bucentaure
. A few shots struck home, others passed menacingly overhead.

"Now, Captain, give the order!" Nelson screamed.

Within seconds a fire sprung up beneath the foremast and the maintop yard came crashing down. The ship fell off from the wind, opening a large gap in the line. Instantly the
Leviathan
wore again and made straight for the gap, followed by the rest of the English line.

Once the
Leviathan
was committed to its course, Nelson gave the order for the fire to be extinguished. The yard was already cut free and pushed overboard. Now
Bucentaure
and
Leviathan
were about to exchange broadsides. Here's where the real fight begins, he thought. He felt the rippling rumble as his great guns fired in succession. The shock of the enemy's return fire was staggering, tearing great gashes in the deck and throwing up showers of deadly splinters. He saw a promising young midshipman crumple to the floor, a two-foot long, razor-sharp piece of oak protruding from the back of his neck. The headless corpse of a sailor fell out of the rigging and landed at his feet.

But the admiral remained calm, his mind racing to the next series of orders. This is my element, he thought. As long as these men will fight, I will lead them. "Prepare to wear to the larboard. As soon as the third ship, I believe it is the
Vanguard
, passes through, we will close the gap. Have the men on deck lie down when we start, Captain. She will be able to give us a punishing rake across our bow as we turn. But then we will have them. Captain Devereaux must move soon or the trap will not close."

They watched the second ship pass, exchanging broadsides while in range, then the
Vanguard
approached. Nelson gripped the rail, tightly, the knuckles on his left hand turning white. "Get ready . . . , get ready . . . , now!" The deck was a flurry of activity as men ran around hauling halyards and belaying. Then most lay flat on the deck. The
Bucentaure
pointed its bow straight towards the
Vanguard
while Admiral Nelson stood there defiantly, braced for the broadside .

There was an enormous blast sending shock waves to the heart of the vessel. But the blast did not come from the
Vanguard
. Nelson looked beyond to see a brilliant conflagration in the middle of the Spanish squadron.

"Dear God! Pierre! It's the
Santissima Trinidad
! She's exploded! The magazine must have caught. And look. The three English ships she was fighting have all been dismasted. This will help us win today but, God, what a price."

The blast was so tremendous that both fleets were stunned and every man stopped what he was doing. There was silence, broken only by the great splashes made by shattered masts and yards falling into the water from the vast height to which they had been exploded. By the time the fighting resumed, the
Vanguard
had missed its chance to rake
Bucentaure
.

Now the flagship was preparing to rake the stern of the
Vanguard
as it moved across her rear. The men on board the English ship realized their position and ran about wildly, trying to change course. Nelson ordered the firing to resume and the men cheered as the enemy's main-topmast came down in a tangle of cloth, wood and rope. Two more broadsides were delivered before the
Vanguard
was out of range, one of which crippled the rudder.

The admiral now turned his attention to the rest of the English line. The fourth English ship had realized the situation and wore to the south, continuing along the rest of the French line, but the three that had gone through were now cut off from the main body. Nelson checked the rear of his line and saw that Captain Devereaux had indeed led the last four ships to the leeward, closing the trap.

The new lead enemy ship had just dealt
Bucentaure
a withering broadside and the admiral felt the jarring from an explosion below decks. One of our guns blew, he thought, then heard a sick cracking sound from the foremast. He stood helpless and watched as it fell. "Clear the wreckage!" he ordered. "Cut it loose. Cut the halyards!" The men worked feverishly but the tangle was too great. His heart sank as Hardy moved up in the
Victory
. He knew they had lost most of their headway. Then he made a decision. "Captain! Helm hard to larboard!"