Sails on the Horizon: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (30 page)

“Heave to, Daniel,” Charles said, briefly wondering whether he or Commander Allenby were senior. He decided that the odds were in Allenby’s favor.

The sloop turned into the wind twenty yards away and smartly dropped her sails. She had a boat in the water before she’d lost all her way. Charles watched as
Speedy
’s cutter, with a dozen men in her, struggled across the heavy sea to hook onto
Louisa
’s lee chains.

The commander’s hat appeared above the rail as two of the
Louisa
’s bosun’s mates piped him on board. Cleaves and the rest of the lugger’s prize crew followed him up the side. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Captain Edgemont,” Commander Allenby said, touching his hat and extending his hand. Commanders were addressed as “Captain” only as a courtesy and Charles returned the favor. “The pleasure is mine, Captain Allenby,” he said, shaking his hand. “May I offer you some refreshment in my cabin?”

“Thank you, no,” Allenby replied and held out a canvas satchel. “I’ve only time to return your prize crew and deliver your ship’s mail. There are orders from Captain Elphinbottom in there, too.”

“Who’s Captain Elphinbottom?” Charles asked. “What happened to Admiral Jervis?”

“Oh, old Jervie’s in London on business. Elphinbottom’s handling things from Lisbon,” Allenby said, making a gesture with his fist and thumb depicting a man drinking from a bottle. “He’s a bit—ah—peculiar, if you ask me.”

“Do you know about my situation here?” Charles asked, worried now that Jervis hadn’t gotten his report. “Do you know if they plan to send me any reinforcements?”

“Not a word,” Allenby replied. “Sorry.” He turned and started for the rail. “I must be off. I’ve dispatches for the Admiralty in London.”

“One thing,” Charles asked out of curiosity, “which of us is senior?”

Commander Allenby grinned and touched his hat. “You are, sir, by almost a month. You’re sixth from the bottom; I’m second.”

“Only a few short steps to admiral,” Charles said happily. “Good luck to you.”

“Good luck to you, sir,” Allenby said, and to the twitter of pipes descended over the side to his boat.

Charles took the satchel to his cabin and opened it, shuffling through the thirty or so envelopes until he found his orders from Elphinbottom and to his surprise a letter to him from Ellie. Without a qualm he opened his sister’s letter first:

Tattenall

14
June
1797

My Dearest Brother,

I wish you and your friend Daniel Bevan and of course my dearest beloved husband Stevie could be here at home this time of year. Everything is green and the roses are all in bloom. John sends his best wishes and asks me to tell you that he will be writing about the management of your estates soon. He says for me to tell you everything is going well and he has reduced the rents on the crofts and there has been some good result from this, exactly what I forget. He asked me to tell you more but it’s too complicated for me to remember right now.

I must tell you that Penny Brown (do you remember her? Ha ha.) and I visit together about once a week. She is such a wonderful, wise person, my closest and dearest friend in the whole world, after you and my darling sweetheart Stevie, of course. I even went to Quaker meeting (they call it meeting, not church) with her last Sunday. There was no minister or sermon or anything! Anyway, I subscribe to the
Gazette
now and Penny and I read it together as soon as it comes. We always look for some mention of the
Louisa
and her crew, but so far in vain. She said just the other day, after we read about some of the naval battles (I forget which ones), that she didn’t realize that being in the navy was so dangerous. She asked me to convey to you her fondest thoughts and that she is still laboring with your suggestion.

So Charlie, you must do everything in your power to keep yourself and my husband, whom I love and adore more than anything, safe until he can return to me.

Hugs and kisses,

Ellie

Charles rifled through the mail satchel further, pulled out fully a dozen and a half letters from Ellie to Stephen, and set them aside. So Penny and Ellie met every week and talked about him. And they even read the
Gazette,
and Penny worried that he might be in danger. Charles smiled to himself. Penny’s face appeared before him, and he could almost hear her voice, almost see her. Suddenly his heart ached and he wished he were home so they could walk and talk…Then with a start he remembered his orders from Lisbon and tore them open:

Commander Charles Edgemont,

HMS
Louisa

Sir,

Admiral Sir John Jervis (Lord St. Vincent) being detained, it has fallen to me to respond to your request for instructions regarding the Spanish frigate
Santa Brigida.
You are hereby expressly requested and required to make every effort to prevent said frigate from departing her base at Ferrol providing that you do so without endangering your ship in any way. Further, if she does present, you are authorized and required to capture or destroy said frigate so long as this will be done with every assurance of success and minimal loss to His Majesty’s Navy. You must do this with the resources currently at your disposal as no additional assistance is available.

You disregard these orders at your peril.

Your servant, &tc,

Gladwin Elphinbottom

Acting Fleet Captain, Lisbon

Charles threw the paper on his desk in disgust. “What does he expect me to do, sprinkle it with faerie dust?” he muttered to himself. He sat in deep contemplation at his desk for a time, all thoughts of Ellie and Penny gone from his head. “Pass the word for Lieutenants Bevan and Winchester,” he growled loudly at the marine sentry outside his door.

“WHAT ARE WE
going to do?” Bevan said after reading Elphinbottom’s orders and passing them on to Winchester.

Charles frowned at the question. “I don’t see that we have much choice,” he said slowly. “First, we’re low on stores and are going to have to leave to resupply soon anyway. Elphinbottom didn’t mention anything about supplying us at sea. I’m not sure he realizes that ships at sea actually need to be supplied from time to time. Second, I doubt Ecclesby is returning anytime soon, if at all.” Charles took a deep breath. “To answer your question, Daniel, I’m planning to engage the
Santa Brigida,
at least to damage her enough so that she won’t be a threat for a while.”

Bevan whistled softly. “And how do you plan to do that, Charlie?”

Charles told him. “If the wind holds, we do it tomorrow morning,” he concluded. Bevan was not enthusiastic.

Then, remembering another duty he had, Charles picked up a three-inch-thick pile of letters from Ellie to Winchester and handed it to him.

TEN

“C
LEAR THE SHIP FOR ACTION, DANIEL,
”
CHARLES SAID.
The ponderous headlands of Cape Prior, just a few miles north of Ferrol, were well within view from the quarterdeck. The sun rising over the Spanish highlands illuminated
Louisa
’s sails with a golden glow that contrasted exquisitely with the clear blue of the cloudless early September sky and the deeper blue of the long Atlantic swells. The ship’s wake stretched in a wavering line, like chalk on sapphire, as far as the eye could see.

It’s going to be a beautiful day,
he thought. The air had just a hint of the crispness of the coming autumn. The wind blew steadily for now from the southwest, but would probably diminish as the day wore on and the landmass heated up. He hoped to get his business done before that happened. He watched as a solitary bird, a tern, he decided, soared toward the foretopgallant masthead and lighted effortlessly on the truck at its very top. There it perched like some kind of talisman while the masthead swayed lazily in its great circle across the sky.

“The ship’s cleared for action,” Bevan reported, breaking into Charles’s thoughts.

“How long did it take?”

“Nineteen minutes, near enough,” Bevan answered. “Best so far.”

Charles nodded his satisfaction. “You may put her on a starboard tack to weather the reef in front of Ferrol and then beat to quarters.” Charles didn’t like to use the name for the reef on his charts: “
Dientes del Diablo.
” It sounded too foreboding, too melodramatic.

“Aye aye,” Bevan responded, then turned to issue the orders.

The
Louisa
came about smartly and started south by southeast, leaning moderately as she sailed into the wind. “Reef ahead, four miles off the starboard bow,” the lookout in the fore crosstrees called down. Charles could just see the white surf boiling over the black rocks from the quarterdeck. He felt his muscles tense at the thought of battle. He couldn’t tell whether he was anticipating or dreading it. The little marine drummer began his roll, and the cry “All hands to quarters” sounded across the deck. With a flurry of scurrying feet, the men rushed up the ladderways to their battle stations. As
Louisa
skirted the reef about a mile to leeward, Charles turned to Eliot: “When we get to a point a mile south and west of the rocks, I want you to swing her head around and heave to under topsails. We’ll wait there and see what happens.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Crosstrees,” Charles yelled upward. “Can you see into the shipyard?”

“Yes, sir,” the lookout called down. “I see the frigate. Her yards are crossed. She’s moored just past the fort. There’s a power of activity on her.”

At the place on the sea Charles had indicated, the topmen once again rushed into the rigging while the waisters heaved on the braces. When Eliot shouted “Wear ship” and spun the wheel, the
Louisa
turned full circle. “Back the foretopsail,” the master roared, and she lost what little way she had, becoming more or less stationary three miles from the mouth of Coruna Bay.

Charles climbed partway up the mizzenmast shrouds with his glass to better see his adversary and consider the position, its advantages and liabilities. He hoped to lure the
Santa Brigida
out of her protected anchorage. She would have a long slow tack into the wind to get at him, her course options limited by the Ferrol promontory and the reef on her starboard and the direction of the wind over her larboard bow quarter. From the time the Spanish frigate came into extreme range of
Louisa
’s guns until she beat up enough to present her cannon at close range, his guns could get off five or six broadsides. If they were skillful or lucky enough to carry away a few yards or even a mast, they might cripple her so that
Louisa
could close, lay across the Spaniard’s bow, and rake her till she sank or struck. If they weren’t able to damage the
Santa Brigida
sufficiently during the time she would be unable to present her broadside…well, Charles didn’t want to think about that. The Spaniard’s more numerous eighteen-pounders could do a lot more damage a lot faster than
Louisa
’s twelves. Another liability seemed to be that
Louisa
was drifting with the wind and current toward the shore—and under the guns of the forts—more quickly than he had expected. It was something he would have to watch, but if he could induce the Spaniard to come out soon enough they should be all right. Satisfied, he climbed back down to the deck.

“Run up the colors,” he said to Beechum. Almost immediately the Union Flag of Great Britain broke out above the taffrail at the stern. “Any movement?” he called up to the crosstrees.

“Naught, sir. She ain’t moving.”

“Run out the guns, Daniel, and fire one,” Charles said. He was beginning to worry that the
Santa Brigida
would refuse battle. The firing of a gun in these circumstances was a calculated insult, a challenge to fight every bit as personal as a slap in the face. He was in effect calling the Spanish captain a coward if he stayed at his moorings behind the harbor’s fortifications. The roar of the gun sounded, then echoed back from the mainland’s heights.

Charles waited expectantly, hardly breathing.

“She’s putting on sail!” the lookout shouted. “She’s coming out!”

Charles could just see the tops of the frigate’s masts moving on the other side of the promontory. They were lost from view as the
Santa Brigida
passed behind the fort, and soon her bow appeared as she emerged into the bay.