A Man of No Country

by Philip K Allan

  ‘And still no hint as to where this enormous fleet may be directed,’ sighed Clay.

  ‘I believe I can make out a little of the port now, sir,’ reported Taylor as he looked through the eye piece of his telescope. ‘There is a deal of domes and towers, one of which is very tall.’

  ‘The domes will be the cathedral which lies close to the harbour, and that larger tower to the right is the lighthouse, sir,’ said the master. ‘During the peace they keep a beacon that burns there all night. The entrance to the harbour lies between the two.’

  ‘Yes, I have it now,’ said Clay focusing his telescope. ‘Goodness, it is fair rammed with shipping. Why I can see masts as thick as grass.’ He tilted his head back and hailed the two figures at the mast head. ‘Mr Butler! Can you and Mr Russell see into the harbour?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the midshipman. ‘It will take us a while to note all these vessels though.’

  ‘Bring her up into the wind if you please, Mr Blake, and send a couple of hands with glasses to help the young gentlemen.’

  While the count of the shipping in Marseille went on, the ship began to come to life. The dark shore had resolved itself into the wooded hills of Provence and the sun had risen above the horizon to bring a little grateful warmth to the officers of the Titan. The watch below was turned up, and streamed up the ladder ways to stow their hammocks in the netting, with many a cry of surprise as the bare footed sailors discovered the frost. Clay watched as the men worked away, scrubbing down the decks with mops and holy stones, before they rinsed them off with copious amounts of freezing seawater.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Taylor, is it my imagination or are the hands rather subdued?’ he asked. His first lieutenant watched the work of cleaning the deck for a moment.

  ‘Yes, perhaps they are, sir,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe washing frost from the decks with cold water is not to their taste. I know I would rather not do it on such a morning.’

  ‘On the contrary, I would expect it to have induced much more skylarking than usual. The men should be seeking to splash one another, with exclamations of surprise and the like. Why, they have barely even noted that the coast of France is just over there.’

  ‘It may be because we have had another theft, sir,’ replied the first lieutenant. ‘During the night. A marine private this time. I was going to inform you once we had completed our observations.’

  ‘Another!’ exclaimed Clay, his face growing red. ‘How many does that make, four now? Good God, am I in command of a King’s ship or a damned prison hulk?’

  ‘We do have a fair number of criminals aboard, in truth, sir,’ offered Taylor.

  ‘As did we have last commission, Mr Taylor,’ snapped his captain. ‘Yet I do not recall such persistent wickedness? Has the master at arms apprehended anyone?’

  ‘He is investigating it, naturally, but with so little to go on he is still no closer to laying a hand on the cutpurse, sir.’

  ‘But he must succeed,’ said Clay. ‘Surely it cannot be so very difficult to find the culprit. On a ship this size, with so many people living on top of one another? If that is what is causing this unease amongst the crew it must be stopped. Before the efficient working of the ship starts to suffer.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Taylor. ‘I will speak with him again. The young gentlemen have returned from aloft now.’ Clay watched Armstrong finish his work with the two midshipmen, a sheath of notes flapping in the breeze. When he was satisfied, he came over and touched the brim of his hat with the two lookouts in tow.

  ‘As we suspected, the chief part of their fleet are here, sir,’ he reported. ‘A hundred and forty sail of merchantmen, and a further two frigates. When added to the shipping we observed at the other ports, we are a little shy of four hundred transporters, with twenty men-of-war to protect them, sir.’

  ‘Four hundred,’ exclaimed Clay. ‘God bless my soul! How large an army do the French plan to transport?’

  ‘You could shift fifty thousand men with such a fleet, sir,’ said Armstrong, making the calculation. ‘And supply them for a good few months.’ Clay looked back towards the port. The early morning sunshine shone down on the pale stone of the sea wall now. Behind it he could see the numberless masts poking up.

  ‘Well, now we are at least certain that the rumours of an expedition are true,’ he said. ‘Mr Armstrong, lay us on a course that will take us back to join the fleet off Cadiz. We need to report all of this to the admiral as soon as possible.’

  Chapter 7

  Nelson

  ‘Ah, there you are, Captain Clay,’ said Lord St Vincent, as his last guest entered the great cabin of the Ville de Paris. ‘Allow me to introduce you to the others before we sit down to dinner. My flag captain you know already of course.’ The elegant Amery shook hands with Clay, and he was then led into the centre of the group to greet the other guests. ‘This is Sir James Saumarez, who commands one of my former ships, the old Orion. She was among our seventy-fours at my victory over the Dons last year.’ Clay found himself facing a tall, haughty looking man with receding brown hair and a prominent nose down which he regarded the new arrival.

  ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, captain,’ he said. ‘Are you one of the Jersey Clays, by any chance?’

  ‘No, Sir James,’ he said. ‘My people come from Hampshire.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Saumarez. ‘One can never have enough Channel Islanders in a fleet, I find.’

  ‘We cannot all be blessed with your upbringing amongst the reefs and rocks of Guernsey, Sir James,’ said the admiral, rolling his eyes a little. He turned towards the captain who stood next in line. He was a shorter man with almost no hair left on his prominent dome of a head. His long, lean face was kindly, and he smiled as he took Clay’s hand.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, captain,’ he said. ‘I believe we may share the same first name? I am Alexander Ball, and just to make for further confusion my ship too is named Alexander. There she lies, directly behind the Vanguard.’ He pointed out of the stern windows at a bulky looking ship of the line with a black and yellow hull. Clay could just make out that the figurehead was of a man with gold armour and long blond hair crouched over the neck of his white horse.

  ‘I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Ball,’ he replied. ‘You have a very fine ship.’

  ‘And now, let me name a very special officer to you,’ said St Vincent. ‘He has but recently arrived from home, having rushed ahead of my promised reinforcements to get to grips with the enemy all the sooner. Captain Alexander Clay, this is Rear Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson.’

  The man who stood before him was tiny, almost a foot shorter than Clay. He had a full head of curly brown hair that he wore long, a prominent nose and a generous, almost feminine mouth. His admiral’s uniform was immaculate, complete with the ribbon and star of the Order of the Bath. The right sleeve was empty, and was pinned across his chest. The pupil of his right eye was large and blank, while the other was bright blue and regarded Clay with interest. He opened his mouth to speak and out came a thick Norfolk accent.

  ‘Tell me, captain,’ he said, appraising him with his unblinking good eye. ‘Does you hate the French?’

  ‘Hate them, Sir Horatio?’ queried Clay, unsure for a moment which eye he should look at. He decided at length to fix his gaze on the bridge of the rear admiral’s nose.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Nelson. ‘Do you hate them?’

  ‘They are my country’s enemy at present, so I naturally fight them whenever occasion serves,’ he said. ‘And I do hold the manner in which their revolution has degenerated into uncivil terror to be decidedly ill for humanity, but I can’t say that I hate them as such.’

  ‘Oh but you must,’ insisted Nelson. ‘As you would the Devil!’

  ‘What, all of them, Sir Horatio?’ asked Clay. ‘Even those royalists who have fled the revolution, and now fight with us?’

  ‘Even them, for were they not our foes in the last war? No, no, there is only one way of dealing with you
r Frenchman and that is to knock him down,’ he said. He reached up to tap Clay on the chest with his remaining hand. ‘I tell you, captain, my blood fair boils at even the name of one.’ Clay was a little unsure what to say next. St Vincent grunted with appreciation at the sentiments that his new rear admiral had expressed, while the other guests looked on without comment.

  ‘I shall... eh, bear that in mind, Sir Horatio,’ he said at last, to fill the pause in the conversation.

  ‘I believe that dinner is served now, my lord,’ said Captain Amery, coming to his rescue. ‘Should we proceed through to the next cabin?’ St Vincent looked around and saw the white-gloved steward who waited by the door.

  ‘Capital!’ he exclaimed. ‘I do declare I am quite famished. I can hold out the prospect of fresh flesh for once tonight, gentlemen. Sir Horatio was good enough to bring a considerable number of live beasts for the fleet out with him. The Vanguard must have been like Noah’s ark. My cook has selected one of the lambs for our feast this evening. Do please follow me.’

  With only six of them, they made an intimate gathering around the dining table. St.Vincent sat at the head with Nelson on one side of him and Saumarez, the most senior of the three captains, on the other. Next came Ball and Clay, who sat opposite each other, and finally Captain Amery took his place at the other end of the table. No sooner had they sat down then the cabin door opened, and in came a line of sailors. Each one carried a steaming dish to place on the table, while the final man brought in a large leg of lamb which he placed in front of the flag captain. Amery promptly stood back up again, picked up a knife, and began to carve while the others watched him.

  ‘I trust I find you in good health, Sir Horatio?’ asked Saumarez. ‘Are you fully recovered from the loss of your arm?’

  ‘The winter was most vexing, I shall not lie,’ said Nelson. ‘There were long periods when the pain was so intolerable that I was obliged to take to my bed. But with the turn of the year, the last ligature fell away, and once my surgeon had pulled it free I made a full recovery.’

  ‘Well, let that be our first toast, gentlemen,’ said St Vincent. He raised his glass. ‘To the happy return.’ The guests all drained their glasses with a rumble of approval, and the steward slid forward to replenish them.

  ‘Did I not hear that you too were injured in the arm some years back, Captain Clay?’ asked Ball. ‘In the Caribbean, was it not?’

  ‘Yes, that is correct,’ he said. ‘During my action with the San Felipe I took a musket ball in the shoulder. I was fortunate that my surgeon was able to extract it quickly and save my arm.’

  ‘Fortunate indeed!’ exclaimed Nelson, his lamb skidding around his plate as he tried to cut it with his left hand.

  ‘For God’s sake, Amery,’ growled St Vincent. ‘Can’t you cut the damn slices more thinly? Steward! A fresh plate for Sir Horatio, if you please.’

  ‘Lady Nelson has had this special device made for me, but I am yet to master its usage.’ He held up his fork for them all to see. The bottom tine had been replaced by a thin blade.

  ‘Most ingenious,’ said St Vincent. ‘That will answer very well, so long as the meat is not indifferently carved.’ He shot a venomous look down the table at his flag captain.

  ‘Were you ever injured, Captain Ball?’ asked Clay, wanting to move the conversation away from the unfortunate Amery.

  ‘Not yet in the service of my country, no,’ he replied. He patted a hand on the polished top of the walnut table. ‘But I was almost killed as a boy.’

  ‘Was you now?’ said the admiral. ‘Could we trouble you for the particulars?’

  ‘It was back when I was at school,’ began the captain. ‘I would have been no more than ten at the time. A particularly notorious band of robbers were to be hanged in Gloucester, and a group of the boys went to see the event. I recall it drew a considerable crowd, but we succeeded in obtaining a tolerable view by climbing to the top of a cart of hay. We were all much impressed by the manner in which the villains jerked and swung, and could talk of little else all the way back to school.’

  ‘There are few things in life quite as satisfying as a good hanging, I find,’ said St Vincent, in a far away voice. After a pause Ball continued with his story.

  ‘When we returned to school, we decided, with the conceit of the very young, that we should play at robbers and hangmen,’ he said. ‘We found a suitable beam in the stable, and a length of rope. I was nominated as the robber, the rope was placed about my neck and I was hauled aloft.’

  ‘Bess my soul!’ exclaimed Saumarez. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I remember I struggled for a while, and my friends delighted at how well my jerks and kicks imitated those of the robbers we had seen hanged earlier. Then all went dark. The next thing I recall was coming to in bed with a poultice about my neck. I couldn’t speak for a week, and had a vivid red mark for many months thereafter. I learnt later that I owed my life to the intervention of an older boy. He chanced to be passing, looked in, and observing that my face had turned quite black, he came to my rescue.’

  ‘Pon my soul, if that ain’t that the damndest tale I ever did hear!’ exclaimed their host. He raised his glass once more. ‘That deserves another toast, gentlemen. To the anonymous saviour of young Master Ball, with a bumper, if you please.’ The second toast was drunk with as much enthusiasm as before, and the meal moved on to pudding. Once everyone was served Clay saw Amery look across the table towards his admiral and catch his eye. St Vincent waited for a lull in the conversation and then turned towards him.

  ‘Might I trouble you to give the company an account of your recent reconnaissance of the south coast of France, captain?’ he asked. Clay put down his spoon, and looked round to see that he had everyone’s attention.

  ‘In pursuance of the instructions that your lordship gave me, I visited our ambassador in Naples,’ he began. ‘Sir William informed me he had intelligence that the French had been massing troops in army camps at Marseille and Genoa, and had spent the winter gathering together a considerable armada of shipping to transport those forces. I visited most of the principal ports on that coast, and found those rumours to be true.’

  ‘What size of force did you discover?’ asked Nelson.

  ‘I counted almost four hundred sail of transporters, chiefly at Genoa, Toulon and Marseille, Sir Horatio, supported by sixteen ships of the line, four frigates and a number of inferior craft.’

  ‘Did you say four hundred?’ spluttered Ball, spilling his wine. ‘Upon my word, how big is the army they plan to sail with?’

  ‘That I do not know, but four hundred sail was what I counted some three weeks ago, Captain Ball,’ said Clay. ‘The size of their fleet may, of course, have grown further since then.’

  ‘Which is why I shall be detaching a squadron from this fleet to return to the Mediterranean and combat this menace,’ said St Vincent. ‘Sir Horatio shall command it. His acquaintance with that part of the world and his activity and disposition qualify him in a peculiar manner for this service. You gentlemen will form the members of his force.’ Saumarez turned his patrician gaze around the room and counted his fellow guests.

  ‘Sir Horatio has his Vanguard, I have Orion, Ball has Alexander and Captain Clay the Titan,’ he said. ‘Three ships of the line and a frigate, to face twenty warships of the enemy?’ he said. ‘Even under such an able leader as Sir Horatio, those might appear to be troubling odds.’

  Nelson smiled at this. ‘It was not just the Vanguard and fresh lamb that I brought with me from England, James,’ he said. ‘I also come with news of reinforcements. Sir Roger Curtis will be on his way from Ireland as I speak, with a force of ten ships of the line.’

  ‘Once they have arrived I will release a similar number to join you gentlemen,’ explained St Vincent. ‘I can do no more till then. I am still obliged to keep sufficient force out here in the Atlantic to blockade the Dons in Cadiz.’

  ‘Were you able to establish what objective this French armada has been gathe
red for, Captain Clay?’ asked Ball.

  ‘Regrettably not, sir,’ he replied. ‘The French are keeping their cards very close to their chest.’

  ‘Ah, but now you put your finger on the question we would all very much like to know the answer to, Captain Ball,’ said St Vincent. ‘Where are the French going to attack? Every man seems to have a different notion. You gentlemen may as well pay your guinea and hazard a guess too.’

  ‘The latest copies of Le Moniteur from Paris report that Naples will be the objective,’ explained Captain Amery. ‘Although the government believes that is like to be so much rot. The French often place false reports in that paper, to put their enemies off the scent.’

  ‘Never trust a Frenchman,’ offered Nelson.

  ‘The First Sea Lord believes that the French plan to invade Portugal,’ said St Vincent. ‘But if you attend to the pronouncements of Lord Spencer you will never want for moonshine. What are your opinions, gentlemen?’

  ‘Might their objective be to recapture the sugar islands they have lost in the Caribbean?’ said Ball. ‘Such a force could certainly achieve that.’

  ‘Most unlikely,’ sniffed Saumarez. ‘We are their chief foe. They surely mean to strike at our heart, either by landing directly in England, or via Ireland.’

  ‘Oh come now, Sir James!’ said the captain of the Alexander. ‘If the French mean to invade, they can do so with far more convenience by coming across the Channel, not via some force down in Marseille! The Caribbean will be their objective, mark my words.’

  ‘But Captain Ball, they have tried and failed the direct route already, hence a more oblique approach—’

  ‘And what is your opinion, Captain Clay?’ said a strong rural accent that cut across the two squabbling officers. Clay looked up to find the bright eye of his new commander looking at him.

  ‘Like the rest of the party, I have no certain intelligence to offer, but if you press me to speculate, it seems to me that the only truth on which we can wholly rely is that the French have chosen to gather their forces in the Mediterranean,’ he said, in the quiet around the table. ‘Captain Ball and Captain Saumarez’s objectives lie outside that sea, as does Lord Spencer’s Portugal, for that matter. If any of these were where the French meant to attack, would they not choose to do so from the Atlantic or Channel coasts of France?’