Drinkwater had expected further interjections by the prince, but he seemed content to listen and commanded Drinkwater impatiently to 'go on, do go on'.
'I have information that a plot has been matured in Paris that, consequent upon the Emperor Napoleon abdicating ...'
'Emperor? Emperor, sir? The man is no more than a damned general, General Bonaparte!'
'General Bonaparte, Your Royal Highness, was elected Emperor of the French by plebiscite; he is moreover married to an Austrian Arch-duchess and is therefore still related to the Emperor of Austria. Whatever title he held and whatever title we ascribe to him now matters little, but I lay emphasis upon the point now to', Drinkwater was about to say 'remind,' but the look in the prince's narrowing eyes, made him change his mind. His sleepless night made him over bold and he came quickly to his senses, 'to acquaint Your Royal Highness of the significance of what Bonaparte has relinquished by his instrument of abdication.'
'He was beaten damn it, Drinkwater! Eh, what?'
'Militarily yes, sir, but his ambition is unbeaten, for he abdicated not in favour of King Louis, but his own son. Moreover, his genius is undiminished.'
'Very well, very well, but what is this to us? He is to be exiled, under guard, locked up as nearly as maybe, what. Yet you come here blathering of plots.'
'Would that it were blathering, sir. The fact is a considerable number of his officers are roaming about disaffected and dissatisfied with the turn events have taken. As we sit here a number are already at sea on passage to rescue their Imperial Master in order to spirit him across the Atlantic to Canada.'
'Canada?' The Royal Brow furrowed again.
'To operate with Yankee support, raise the Québecois, and reestablish Napoleon's dynasty in Canada with a second empire in the Americas.'
'It ain't possible ... is it?' The prince wiped his mouth and threw down his napkin. His eyes swivelled in Blackwood's direction. 'Well Blackwood? What the devil do you think?'
'Well sir,' Blackwood began, 'I must confess I have my doubts.' Drinkwater's heart sank. 'But I'm afraid 'tis not at all impossible, sir, and I share Captain Drinkwater's apprehensions in the strongest manner. An extension of the war in North America under such circumstances with every disaffected Bonapartist taking passage to join the reconstituted eagles on the St Lawrence will cause us no end of havoc. To be candid, sir, we could not withstand a determined onslaught and might lose the whole of the North Americas. I doubt your Royal Father would greet that news with much joy, sir.'
Blackwood's reference to King George III, languishing in Windsor, mentally affected by the ravages of porphyria, was masterly and had the prince nodding agreement.
'There are other factors, sir,' Drinkwater added. 'It is not only the Canadian French in Quebec that should concern us, but the old Acadian families who now live in Nova Scotia would happily revert to a French state, even a Bonapartist one. Moreover, if you consider the matter a stage further, can you not see that it would be no wild conjecture for King Louis to reunite his divided country and wipe out the past five and twenty years by reaching an accommodation with Bonaparte across the Atlantic ...'
'My God, Drinkwater,' Blackwood muttered, 'that is an appalling prospect...'
'I wish it were all; regrettably my information is that Tsar Alexander is not against this scheme and that can mean only that having accepted our gold to keep his armies in the field, he would discomfit us and assume the leadership of Europe.'
'But is all this possible, what?' The prince's pop-eyed face bore the impact of the political possibilities. Drinkwater was reminded of Blackwood's charitable judgement of the previous night and in that moment he could see the prince as a simple and good, if misguided, man. He was clearly having trouble grasping the complexities of the conspiracy.
'The matter can brook no delay, sir,' he said. 'I am asking only for the despatch of my single frigate, and I fear, sir, the future peace of Europe thus rests entirely with you.'
'Me?' Astonishment had transfigured the prince's face a second time. 'Surely the board, Sir Joseph, Melville, Barrow and all the rest of the pack of political jacks...'
'Come, sir, with respect, there is no time! These men, these Bonapartists are already at sea and they are desperate. They will wish to spring their Emperor before we have mewed him up too well. I am under your orders and cannot, would not, act without them, but...'
'But, thank God, you hold the highest rank, sir!' Blackwood broke in, enthusiastically leaning forward, 'No one would question your probity in instructing Captain Drinkwater here to pursue these two ships in order that we might nip this matter in the bud!'
'D'you think so, gentlemen?'
Blackwood grasped his wine glass and raised it in a half-toast, half-pledge, hissing 'Remember Nelson, sir, remember Nelson!'
The prince looked from one to another, his eyes suddenly alight with enthusiasm. 'Damn-and-hell-blast-it, you are right, what! Drinkwater! Blackwood!' Their names were punctuated by the chink of glass on glass. 'Should we not take the squadron, eh, what?' asked the prince, visibly warming to the idea. 'Why, with the Impregnable and Jason under my command ...'
'I think not, sir,' put in Blackwood smoothly, 'we must maintain station to soothe the Russians' suspicions. D'you see?'
'Soothe the Russians? Eh? Oh ... Quite! Quite!' His royal Highness erupted in explosions of acquiescence, as though seeing the point a little uncertainly, through powder smoke.
'It would, moreover sir, add some additional glory to Andromeda,' Blackwood added.
'Why, damn me yes, it would, wouldn't it, eh?' Prince William Henry beamed pleasantly, thinking of reflected glory. 'To our enterprise then,' he said, raising his glass.
Relieved on more than one count, Drinkwater drained his almost at a gulp.
'Come Drinkwater,' the prince exclaimed, 'I see some of God Almighty's daylight in that glass of yours. Banish it!'
And Drinkwater submitted against his judgement to the refill, while His Royal Highness rattled on about writing Drinkwater's orders and Blackwood leaned back in his chair, a half smile upon his face.
Ten minutes later Drinkwater emerged on to Impregnable's quarterdeck with Blackwood. 'You stuck your neck out a couple of times, Drinkwater. I thought Billy was going to have apoplexy when you insisted on Boney being an Emperor.'
'A sleepless night and a matter of urgency makes one less diplomatic,' Drinkwater said, his eyes gritty in the full glare of daylight.
'Oh, I don't blame you,' Blackwood added dismissively, 'those damned Bourbons have all gone back to France to put the clock back as though nothing has happened there since the outbreak of their damned revolution.' He shook his head. 'D'you think Boney will rest easily anywhere?'
Drinkwater shrugged, 'Who knows? The closer to France the more dangerous he is to the process of restoration; the more distant, then the more amenable to some adventure like this one. Even if I'm wrong and it's Elba, we won't be sleeping that easily in our beds.'
'No, we thought we had peace once before ...'
'D'you know they've been building ships at Antwerp for the last eight or nine years. These two frigates that have slipped to sea could be just the beginning of a fleet which could get out the minute we lift the blockade. I tell you, Blackwood, just when we think we can go home with our work done, the whole confounded thing could blow up in our faces.'
'Aye, the Russian interference bothers me. The Tsar's interested in Paris and I daresay his bayonets and Cossacks will prop up the Bourbons if there's trouble from the French army'
'Exactly!' Drinkwater exclaimed. And d'you see, the Tsar can't afford to keep an army of occupation in France without our support and while many of Napoleon's satraps will compromise and throw in their lot with the new order, many more of the less privileged French officers and the rank and file will rally to the eagles. Alexander can give equal support to this because it will be in King Louis' interests to be rid of them. Napoleon will lure them with promises of glory, land grants and the hope o
f a resurrected New France. I know this is possible because, although I do not have the liberty to explain now, it is not new. We have just scotched a transhipment of arms from France to America, resulting from a secret accord between Paris and Washington.'[9]
'So, with Boney stirring up Canada,' summarized Blackwood gloomily, 'supported by remnants of the Grand Army and a fleet built largely in Antwerp; with France weakened by an exodus of its army and with us rushing about trying to save what we can, Alexander capitalizes on his success at no further exertion to himself because we would be exhausted and bankrupt.'
'Yes. And if you wish to extrapolate further, we know the Americans are building a first-rate. If the ships in Antwerp were made available to them, sold cheaply like Louisiana, with American seamen taking them down the Channel under our noses while we kick our heels here waving bunting at His Most Christian Majesty ...'
'Pray, Drinkwater, don't go on. Thank heaven you did not extrapolate all this to poor Billy' The two men laughed grimly and Blackwood added, 'I fully understand, and will make sure there are no problems with Their Lordships.'
'Thank you.'
'Now, is there anything you want? Any way I can help?'
'No, I think if I can work to the westward and lie off the Azores, I might yet prevent this horror.'
'It is as well you were on hand ... ah, here's Colville.'
The flag-lieutenant was crossing the deck with a sealed packet which he held out for Drinkwater.
'Thank you Mr Colville,' Blackwood said, nodding the young officer away, and then in a lower tone, 'I should have a quick look at them, Drinkwater, to ensure they are what you want.'
Drinkwater broke the seal and scanned the single page. For a moment the two captains stood silently, then Drinkwater looked up, folding the paper and thrusting it into his breast pocket. He held out his hand to Blackwood.
'I declare myself perfectly satisfied, Blackwood, and thank you for your help.'
'Carte blanche, eh?' Blackwood smiled.
'Carte blanche indeed.' They shook hands warmly.
'Good fortune, Drinkwater,' Blackwood said and turned away. 'Mr Colville! Call Captain Drinkwater's gig alongside.'
A few moments later Drinkwater was seated in the boat. Midshipman Dunn stood upright in the stern, anticipating Drinkwater's order to return to Andromeda.
'The Trinity Yacht, Mr Dunn,' Drinkwater said, seating himself in the stern-sheets.
'The Trinity Yacht sir,' piped Mr Dunn and turned to Wells the coxswain, and Drinkwater caught the look of incomprehension that he threw at the older man.
'Aye, aye, sir,' Wells responded imperturbably, ordering the bowman to shove the boat's head off, and the vertically wavering oars came down and dipped into the sea. As they came out of the huge flagship's lee, a gust of wind threatened to carry Drinkwater's hat off and he clapped his hand on its crown. A little chop was getting up and the oar-looms, swinging forward before diving into the grey-blue water, sliced the top off the occasional wave. Casting round to orientate himself, Drinkwater realized the wind was from the south-southwest. He was going to have a hard beat to windward.
The Trinity Yacht lay anchored close to the Royal Sovereign, the smallest vessel in the squadron, but rivalling the royal yacht in the splendour of her ornamentation. Cutter-rigged, she bore an ornate beak-head beneath her bowsprit, upon which a carved lion bore a short-sword aloft. Her upper wales were a rich blue, decorated with gilded carving, each oval port being surrounded by a wreath of laurel. Her stern windows and tiny quarter galleries were diminutives of a much larger ship. Across the stern these windows were interspersed with pilasters and in the centre were emblazoned the unsupported arms of the Trinity House.
These arms, a red St George's cross quartering four black galleons, were repeated on a large square flag at the cutter's single masthead and in the fly of her large red ensign which fluttered gaily over her elaborately carved taffrail. Drinkwater was familiar with her and the device; many years earlier he had served in several of the Trinity House buoy yachts.
'Boat 'hoy!'
'Andromeda?
Dunn's treble rang out, forestalling Wells's response and indicating by the ship's name, the presence of that ship's captain.
The boat ran alongside the yacht's side and a pair of man-ropes covered in green baize and finished with Matthew Walker knots snaked down towards him. Grasping these he scrambled quickly up the side and on to the deck.
'Good morning,' he said dusting his hands and touching the fore-cock of his hat as an elderly officer in a plain blue coat responded. 'I am Captain Drinkwater of the Andromeda...'
'You are only a little changed, Captain Drinkwater ...'
'Mr Poulter?'
'The same, sir, the same, though a little longer in the tooth and almost exhausting my three score and ten.'
'Are you, by God? Well, you seem to thrive ...'
'Captains Woolmore and Huddart are aboard, sir, but neither have yet put in an appearance on deck.'
'I met them last night and spoke at length to Captain Huddart, but best let the Elder Brethren sleep, Captain Poulter,' Drinkwater said, giving Poulter his courtesy title. 'They dined exceeding well last night. I was sorry not to see you there. You were the only commander not present last night.'
'You know the Brethren, Captain Drinkwater, you know the Brethren,' Poulter said resignedly, as though age had placed him past any resentment at the affront.
'Well, they ought perhaps to know His Royal Highness is already astir.'
'Are we expecting orders?'
'I think not yet for yourselves or the rest of the squadron, but I have to leave you in some haste and that is why I am here. Not seeing you last night led me to hope you might be still in command here, but whomsoever I found, I guessed would be willing to take home private letters for me.'
'Of course, Captain, happy to oblige ...'
'The truth is I have no idea when the squadron will return to port. I anticipate His Royal Highness may not wish to haul down his flag until he has stretched his orders to the limit, whereas you will be returning immediately to the Thames.'
'You have the advantage of me there, then.'
'Huddart mentioned it last night...' Drinkwater drew two letters from his breast pocket, checked the superscriptions and handed them to Poulter. 'I'm obliged to you Mr Poulter.'
'Glad to be of service, Captain Drinkwater. Will you take a glass before you go?'
'Thank you, but no. I have to get under weigh without further delay'
'Where are you bound?'
'Down Channel to the westward,' Drinkwater held out his hand.
Poulter shook it warmly then sniffed the wind. 'You'll have a beat of it, then.'
'Unfortunately yes.' Drinkwater was already half over the rail, casting a glance down at the boat bobbing below.
'Well, it's fair for the estuary' said Poulter leaning over to watch him descend, the letters, one to Drinkwater's prize agent, the other to Elizabeth, fluttering in his hand.
'And I daresay the Brethren will be anxious to be off, eh, Mr Poulter?' and grinning complicitly Drinkwater sat heavily in the gig's stern-sheets and allowed Mr Dunn to ferry him back to his frigate.
CHAPTER 4
Out of Soundings
April 1814
The wind settled in the south-south-west, a steady breeze which wafted fluffy, lambs-wool clouds off the coast of France. Clear of Cap Blanc Nez, Birkbeck had the people haul the fore-tack down to the larboard bumkin, and the main-tack forward to the fore chains. The sheets of the fore and main courses were led aft and hauled taut. Andromeda carried sail to her topgallants and heeled to leeward, driving along with the ebb tide setting her south and west through the Dover Strait, and while her bowsprit lay upon a line of bearing with the South Foreland high lighthouse, the tide would set her clear of the English coast.
Periodically a patter of spray rose in a white cloud over her weather bow, hung an instant, then drove across the forecastle and waist, darkening the
white planking. The sea still bore the chill of a cold winter, and set anyone in its path a-shiver, but the sunshine was warm and brought the promise of summer along with the faint scent of the land.
'France smells all right,' Drinkwater overhead Midshipman Dunn say, 'but it don't mean it is all right.'
This incontrovertible adolescent logic diverted Drinkwater's attention from the frigate's fabric, for she would stand her canvas well, to consider the plight of the muscle and brain that made her function.
Under any other circumstances, so fine a day with so fine a breeze would have had the hands as happy as children playing, but there was a petulance in Dunn's voice that seemed to be evidence of a bickering between the young gentlemen. Further forward, Drinkwater watched the men coiling down the ropes and hanging them on the life-rails. From time to time one of them would look aft, and Drinkwater would catch the full gaze of the man before, seeing the eyes of the captain upon him, he would look quickly away.
Nearer to him, Birkbeck the sailing master checked the course for the twentieth time, nineteen of which had been unnecessary. Marlowe and Ashton were also on deck, conversing in a discreet tête-à-tête, except that their discretion was indiscreet enough to reveal the subject of their deliberations to be Captain Drinkwater himself, at whom they threw occasional, obvious and expectant glances.
Drinkwater knew very well what was on their minds; his dilemma was the extent to which he could explain where they were bound and why they had left the Royal Squadron. Why in fact they were headed, not for the River Medway to lay up their ship, but down Channel. It was a problem he had faced before, and often caused a lack of trust, particularly between a commander and a first lieutenant, but it was made far worse on this occasion because of the source of the intelligence which had precipitated this wild passage to the westward. How could he explain the rationale upon which his conclusions were based? How could he justify the conviction that had led him to obtain his orders? Moreover, he knew it was his conscience that spurred him to justify himself at all, not some obligation laid upon a post-captain in the Royal Navy based on moral grounds, or consideration for his ship's company. In retrospect it all seemed like deception, and as the hours passed, Blackwood's suspicions appeared more justifiable. But to set against this was the reflection that Blackwood had come round to support Drinkwater in the end, and what was the diversion of one frigate, if it could save the peace?
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