Sails on the Horizon: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (42 page)

Winchester nodded dutifully in agreement.

“Damnation,” Bevan breathed. Charles glanced at his lieutenant and saw him staring at something in the distance. He followed Bevan’s gaze and saw a lone horseman in the uniform of a naval courier trotting up the drive. The courier stopped beside a group of sailors and bent in his saddle, as if asking directions. Charles’s heart sank as he watched a man point in his direction.

“Commander Edgemont?” the courier asked after dismounting.

“I’m Edgemont,” Charles said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities, sir. I have orders for you.”

With a rising sense of dread, Charles signed for the Admiralty envelope. “You’re welcome to stay for something to eat,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. What’s all this in celebration of?”

“My marriage.”

“I am sorry, sir.”

Charles walked a little away and opened the envelope, his expression hardening as he read:

To Commander Charles Edgemont of HM Frigate
Louisa

Sir,

You are hereby requested and required to report at your earliest possible opportunity onboard HM Frigate
Louisa along with her officers and crew.
Said
Louisa
is to be found in a restored state and ready for sea at the Portsmouth Naval Yards. You are further required to report to the Portsmouth Dockyard Admiral’s Office immediately on arrival for receipt of further orders.

Nor you, nor any of you may fail in the strictest and most immediate execution of these orders except at your peril.

Your servant,

Arthur Dorchester,

Admiral, Portsmouth Naval Yard

“What does it say, Charlie?” Bevan asked.

“You know what it says, Daniel.” Charles tried to keep the bile out of his voice. “Send one of the midshipmen on horseback to tell the
Maryanne
to prepare. Pass the word to muster the men at first light. We sail for Portsmouth in the morning. They’ve fixed
Louisa
in record time.”

“I’m very sorry,” Bevan said.

“Yes,” Charles answered.

He leaned on his cane and looked around him until he found Penny talking animatedly with some of her friends. He studied the blush of her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, the happiness on her face. Reluctantly he moved toward her.

“I have to speak to you in the house,” he said as soon as he caught her attention.

“In a minute, Charlie,” she said. Then she saw the dismay in his expression. “Excuse us,” she said to her friends, took his arm, and walked with him toward their home.

“What is it?” she asked as soon as they were inside.

Charles led her into the parlor and they sat down. “I’ve orders to return to the
Louisa,
” he said solemnly.

“When?”

“We leave at dawn.”

“Oh, Charlie, thou and I have just begun.”

“I know,” Charles said slowly. “I feel so badly for you.”

“When wilt thou return?”

Charles sat silent, staring at the floor. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

Penny reached for his hands and held them between her own. “We have this day,” she said. “And whatever time God gives us in the rest of our days.”

THIRTEEN

T
HE BARQUE
MARYANNE
MADE HER WAY UP THE SOLENT
and into Portsmouth Harbor on a clear cold morning with the tide still making and a moderate westerly breeze blowing a small chop across the anchorage. Charles picked out the
Louisa
among the crowd of naval ships as soon as they passed the point. She rode high in the water with all new masts, her yards crossed and a fresh coat of dark-gray paint on her hull. She looked more new than repaired, although, if he looked carefully, he could just see the joints in her strakes where damage from the
Santa Brigida
’s broadsides had been patched over.

Charles leaned on the
Maryanne
’s port rail to take some of the weight off his injured ankle. He had given up the use of his cane several days earlier, but still walked with a small limp. It was more of a dull ache than an actual pain, but it became bothersome when he spent too much time on his feet. “If you would be so good as to lay her close alongside,” he said to the
Maryanne
’s master. “And thank you for a pleasant and speedy passage.”

The barque came to about ten fathoms from the
Louisa
and dropped anchors fore and aft. “Get a boat in the water,” Charles said to Bevan.

“What boat?” the familiar voice of Samuel Eliot called out as
Maryanne
’s jolly boat approached the
Louisa
’s side. Eliot, Howell the carpenter, Keswick the bosun, and George the gunner and their mates had stayed on the ship to oversee the repairs.

“
Louisa,
” Bevan called back as they hooked onto the ship’s mainchains. “How be you, Mr. Eliot? Did you miss us?”

“Not likely, Mr. Bevan,” Eliot called back with a chuckle.

Charles climbed the entry ladder first, favoring his ankle, and was greeted by the twittering pipes of two of the bosun’s mates as he stepped on deck.

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” Eliot said warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“You have to call him ‘Mr. Captain,’” Bevan said, stepping through the entryway. “He’s gotten married, you know. Yes, he’s not his own man anymore. Now he answers to a higher and infinitely more attractive authority.”

“Really, sir?” said Eliot. “Congratulations. I wouldn’t have thought there was time for it. You’ve only been gone a month or so.”

“I’d expected to be home a bit longer,” Charles said, “but thank you anyway.”

“Seems someone was careless about informing the Spanish of our esteemed commander’s plans,” Bevan offered, “or they might have suspended the war for a time in consideration.”

Charles looked carefully around him at the decks, masts, rigging, and all the other details that made the ship function. Everything seemed to be clean, newly painted, and generally shipshape. If he hadn’t known, he could hardly tell which parts were original and which had been repaired or replaced. “The dockyard certainly worked quickly,” he said. “What kind of a job did they do?”

“You’ll get a full report from Davey Howell, but they worked on her in double shifts from dawn till dusk. On my word, I’ve never seen a yard make such an effort. To my eye it seems they did a workmanlike job, though.”

Charles counted the twelve-pounder cannon lined up along the maindeck. With satisfaction he saw that there were twelve on each side, one more than there had been before. “They’ve added another pair of carronades?” he asked.

“Aye, on the quarterdeck. There was a great deal of discussion about it. In the end they took away two of the nine-pounders and replaced them with twelves on the maindeck forward. The carronades are where the nines were.”

Charles nodded his approval. To Bevan he said, “Get the cutter in the water and bring the crew across. As soon as that’s started, lower the gig. I’ve orders to call on the dockyard admiral.”

After changing into his best uniform and hat, and with a boat cloak wrapped tightly against the cold, Charles climbed down the
Louisa
’s side to the waiting gig. He timed his jump carefully, landing mostly on his good leg, and made his way to the sternsheets, where he sat down.

“Let go all,” Williams the coxswain ordered to the four hands at the oars, and the small boat started toward the wharf ladderway.

“Do ye need help getting up the side, sir?” his coxswain offered as they arrived.

Remembering his last visit, when he was carried up slung over the shoulder of one of his crew, he smiled and said, “No thank you, Williams. I can manage this time.”

“Do you desire us to wait for you, sir?”

Charles shook his head. “Thank you, no. I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’ll hire a boat to take me back.” He climbed the ladder, consciously favoring his ankle, trying to hide his limp as he crossed the quay, and entered the long stone building housing the Portsmouth port admiral’s office.

“IN A MOMENT;
the admiral hasn’t had his coffee yet,” the dockyard lieutenant said—the same aide who had tried to prevent Charles from seeing Jervis on his previous visit.

“I’ll wait,” Charles said. He did not feel himself pressed for time, and in any event was not as sure of his ground with Dorchester as he would have been with Jervis. “Please inform the admiral that I’m waiting.” With that he sat on a wooden chair in the hallway and crossed his almost-healed leg over his good one. Ten minutes later, the aide reemerged and ushered Charles through the door.

“Good morning, Commander Edgemont,” Dorchester said, rising and extending his hand. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, sir,” Charles said, shook the offered hand, and felt for the chair behind him. Once Dorchester was seated he sat down.

“How are your injuries?” the admiral asked, searching distractedly through a large stack of papers on his desk.

“Much better, thank you, sir,” Charles answered.

“And the personal business you had to attend to? Jervis—er, Lord St. Vincent—told me you were to be married.” Not waiting for an answer, he said, “Ah, yes, here it is,” and pulled an envelope from the stack.

“Completed satisfactorily, sir,” Charles said.

“Eh, what?” Dorchester said, evidently having momentarily forgotten his question. Then, remembering, “Oh, yes, good. Capital thing, marriage. Don’t agree with the admiral at all about that one. He doesn’t like his officers married—thinks it makes them cautious, averse to taking risks.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said noncommittally. An elderly seaman brought in his coffee and placed it on a small adjacent table.

Dorchester extended his hand with the envelope, then paused and frowned. “I must say something about your absconding with
Louisa
’s crew.”

“I thought the change would do them good,” Charles said quickly, and braced himself for a stern reprimand.

“I’m sure it would,” Dorchester said gruffly, “but think of the discipline. You must have had men running at every opportunity. How many did you lose?”

“I had no deserters, sir. We had very little trouble with discipline; nothing that couldn’t be handled. The only men left behind were the most seriously injured and disabled, amputees mostly.”

“No deserters?” Dorchester said, skepticism showing on his face.

“No, sir, not one.”

“Still, it’s highly irregular, highly,” he said, his tone softening. He handed Charles the extended envelope. “But there’s nothing explicit in the regulations about it, I checked. I’ll let it go this time. Don’t do it again.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said, breathing easier. He broke the seal on his orders and, scanning the handwriting, noted that the
Louisa
was to return to Ferrol to watch over the Spanish frigate and impede her in any way he could. There was more, but he didn’t have time to read all of it.

“On his return to Gibraltar,” Dorchester continued, “His Lordship looked into Ferrol and found your
Santa Brigida
to be advanced in her repairs. He sent word back to me immediately to make
Louisa
our highest priority, with a note requesting that I see to it personally. In deference to his Lordship, I have done so, including the addition to her armament you requested. I think you’ll find the work satisfactory.”

“It seems well done,” Charles said earnestly. “I appreciate the time and effort you’ve put into it.”

Dorchester smiled his acknowledgment, then lifted his hand to indicate that he wasn’t finished. “I’m to tell you that His Lordship is also urgently seeking a second frigate to assist in dealing with the
Santa Brigida
once and for all. There is something about this in your orders, and I believe Captain Hillard’s
Thalis
will be available shortly. Hillard will have more detailed orders and an extra complement of marines. I am told a cutting-out expedition is contemplated.”

Charles’s heart sank. Hillard, he knew, was a post captain well up the first third of the Navy List, and as such would have overall command of any engagement. He would never have admitted it, but he didn’t want some other commander giving orders and taking credit for what Charles considered to be his own personal fight.

“His Lordship feels strongly,” Dorchester emphasized, “that, in the short term, containing the Spanish frigate in Ferrol is of the highest importance. In no event should she be allowed to run free. The damage she could do to British shipping is simply too great.”

“I understand, sir,” Charles said, anxious now to return to his ship and put to sea. “Is
Louisa
provisioned?”

“That will be done this afternoon.”

“My crew is seriously under its complement,” Charles said. “Our casualties from the previous battle have not been replaced.”