The Flag of Freedom (40 page)

Worse was to come. A day later they met with a merchantman from Marseille and learned that Bonaparte had sailed from Toulon over a week before, taking with him thirteen ships of the line and over four hundred transports. But there was no clue as to where they were headed, and without frigates – the eyes of the fleet – the chances of finding them were slight.

On 22 June, Hardy, who had been sent off in the brig, reported that they had landed at Malta about a week earlier – and left a few days later, heading east. This finally persuaded Nelson that they were bound for Egypt.

‘As you advised us about a year ago,' he said to Nathan. Nathan winced as if it was a rebuke, and perhaps it was.

So the squadron sailed east, sending Hardy ahead to look into Alexandria. On 29 June he reported back. The roads, he said, were empty.

It was the same evening that Nathan had sighted the French fleet in the murk of the khamsin.

‘So you must have been just a few miles to the east,' he mused, perhaps unwisely. He did not like to ask where they had been going, but Nelson told him anyway.

‘On our way to fucking Asia,' he snarled, through gritted teeth.

They had first gone to Aleppo, Berry supplied, and then the Gulf of Antalya and then back up along the coast of Asia Minor to Crete.

‘Chasing shadows and rumours across the Levant,' he added softly.

Nelson's great fear was that the threat to Egypt had been a ruse to divert him far to the east while Bonaparte landed his troops in Sicily. So he hurried back towards Italy – only to find he was wrong again.

It was this, he said, that had broken his heart.

‘So what have you been doing, sir?' he enquired of Nathan in the same suspiciously light tone. ‘Pray entertain us with a full account of it, for we are dearly in need of entertainment, are we not, Berry?'

‘Perhaps later,' Berry advised Nathan, in case he should presume to take this instruction literally. ‘Shall I prepare the fleet for sea, sir?' he enquired of his Admiral with the gentleness normally preserved for the old and infirm.

‘Why not? We may as well check out this latest “rumour”.' Nelson's glare at Nathan was even fiercer for having only one eye to give it vigour, rather like the glare of a Cyclops. ‘For it is better than chasing back to Gibraltar for fear they may be on their way to England.'

Nathan returned to the
Swallow
to inform Imlay of the change of plan.

Imlay, however, would have none of it.

‘
You
may go where you damn well please,' he declared, ‘but
we
are going to Naples and there is an end to it.'

The argument raged fast and furious and they might have come to blows, had it not been for the intervention of Miss Devereux, who was brought out of her cabin by the row. But even her pleas failed to move Imlay. It was her father who was paying for this expedition, he informed them, and not Captain Peake, nor Admiral Nelson, nor any other Briton that he knew of, and it was her father who had the prior claim on them. Captain Peake might go to the Devil for all he cared, but he would not take the
Swallow
with him, nor any of its crew, save those in the service of King George. And if Captain Peake wished to dispute it, they might settle it with swords or pistols at any time of his choosing.

Nathan was tempted to take him up on the offer, but it would not do. They could not fight a duel in front of the entire crew, most of whom would very likely be in Imlay's corner. His only other recourse was to appeal to Nelson, but Nelson might be reluctant to seize what was, technically speaking, a private ship-of-war in the service of the American President, with all the diplomatic complications that would ensue, especially with so much else on his mind.

So in the end there was nothing for it but to quit his command.

He had all hands piped on deck and addressed them one last time.

‘Men – as many of you know, I am a British officer,' he began. They stared back at him without expression. ‘And as such I am bound by my oath to King George – and my own inclination – to offer my services to Admiral Nelson in his pursuit of the French. I expect many of you feel the same way …' He paused and surveyed the stony faces before him. There was no immediate sign that they were moved by the same considerations. He doubted, in fact, if half of them understood more than a few words of what he was saying. He sighed. ‘However, you have all signed on for the duration of the voyage, and until the
Swallow
returns to Gibraltar your duty is clear – you must remain with the ship and serve Mr Imlay here as you have served me.'

He nodded towards Imlay who stood, stiff and formal, at his side. He thought he saw relief on some of the faces before him. Others stared back with the same incomprehension as before.

‘It only remains for me to thank you all – every one of you – from the bottom of my heart, for the loyalty and devotion you have shown to me and to the ship and to your shipmates over the past months, and especially during the battle with the
Meshuda
. Thank you – and a safe voyage.'

He nodded to the boatswain, but before he could give the order to dismiss, Nathan heard another voice pipe up from among the body of men in the waist, a voice with a distinct American accent.

‘Three cheers for the Captain. Hip, hip – huzzah!'

And to Nathan's frank amazement the entire crew, American, Russian, Italian, Portuguese – even the British
– raised their disparate voices in three hearty cheers.

Nathan felt his eyes prick with tears and turned away with a curt nod to Imlay – though even he looked moved, Nathan thought, as he made his way below.

He found Louisa Devereux in the stern cabin. Her eyes, too, were suspiciously red.

‘I wish you a safe voyage to Naples,' he began formally, ‘and a happy reunion with your papa.'

He was rewarded with a glare almost as savage as Nelson's. ‘Why did Imlay call you Captain Peake?' Her voice was accusing.

‘Because that is my name,' he confessed. ‘Captain Turner is what you might call a
nom de guerre
.'

‘So you are English?'

‘I am.' He thought of explaining that his mother was American and that he had relatives in New York, but this would, he thought, be an unworthy distraction.

‘I thought you were,' she declared, though with little satisfaction. ‘An English naval officer?'

‘Post Captain.'

‘So will you come to Naples when you have finished fighting your wars?' she asked him bluntly. ‘Or will I have to find you in England?'

He was so unhappy it took him a moment to take in the significance of what she had said. Then he took her in his arms. It would have been ungallant not to, though he knew it was unwise. It was probably less wise to kiss her, but he did it any way. Tears were always so seductive, he had always thought, at least in a woman. He told himself that she would forget him within days of arriving in Naples.

Before he left, he packed the charts they had taken from the
Meshuda
. Legally speaking, they probably belonged to Imlay, or Mr Devereux, or the American President, but Nathan was damned if he was going to leave them behind after all the trouble they had caused him.

Tully and O'Driscoll were waiting for him on the quarterdeck with their bags packed. As King's officers they were bound to accompany him – and he expected nothing less. And so they took off their hats, made their bows to Imlay, shook hands with Mr Cribb and the rest of the warrant officers, and stepped into the waiting barge.

‘I expect,' said Imlay, just before Nathan disappeared over the rail, ‘that we shall meet again, sooner or later.'

‘I expect we shall,' replied Nathan in the same resigned tone. Then Imlay put out his hand and Nathan took it. It was, he thought, like shaking hands with his own destiny.

Berry offered Nathan accommodation in the
Vanguard
, but the two lieutenants were packed off to the
Orion
and the
Zealous
, both of whose Captains had need of officers. Nathan experienced a familiar sense of desolation as he watched Tully ferried over to the
Orion
and felt as alone again, and as lonely, as he had felt in the Moorish prison on the Rock of Gibraltar or on the deck of the flagship off Cadiz with the four men hanging from the yards.

‘Captain's compliments,' said a small unbroken voice at the approximate level of his waist and he looked down to see one of the younger servants looking up at him, ‘and he would be obliged for the pleasure of your company, sir, in his day cabin.'

Captain Berry's day cabin was immediately below the Admiral's and almost as well-appointed, with a view of the mountains of the Morea through the great stern windows. Unexpectedly he was alone apart from his steward, who poured from a freshly opened bottle of Madeira before he was dismissed.

‘So how did you find the Admiral?' Berry wanted to know, after the conventional toasts.

‘Well, as you advised, he has changed a great deal from when we were at Cadiz,' Nathan replied warily. ‘But then the loss of his arm …'

‘I vow he would lose the other for a sight of the French fleet on the open sea,' put in Berry abruptly. ‘But these constant setbacks, they are driving him to madness.'

‘He expects too much of himself,' observed Nathan, drawing on his seniority as a member of Nelson's squadron in the Gulf of Genoa back in '95, for Berry had joined them a year later in San Fiorenzo.

‘Aye, I grant you that, but then he feels a lot is expected of him.' Berry kept his voice low, for the stern windows were open and voices carried, even in as big a ship as the
Vanguard
. ‘He was appointed to this command over the heads of a great many more senior officers – and many who think themselves far more deserving. They will be only too glad to see him fail.'

‘Even if it means a French victory?'

‘You know as well as I that there are plenty who put their careers before their country. And if the French do win, they will blame Nelson for it.'

‘I do not see how Nelson can be held to account,' said Nathan after a moment. ‘Their lordships were much
opposed to the notion that Bonaparte had Egypt in his sights. They were convinced it was a ruse.'

Berry nodded. He must have known of Nathan's own difficulties in that regard.

‘It is not as if he did not go there,' Nathan went on. ‘He just got there too soon.'

‘Aye, but bad luck is as often held against one as bad judgement,' observed Berry, ‘especially in a Commander.'

This was true. Bonaparte thought luck was the most important attribute a General could have. But Nathan thought it prudent to keep this wisdom to himself.

‘Well,' said Berry, raising his glass, ‘let us hope your phantoms are still in Alexandria when we get there –' so now they were
his
phantoms, thought Nathan, and presumably he would be blamed for their absence – ‘and do not slip by us once more in the night, on their way to Corfu.'

‘Corfu?' Nathan looked startled. ‘Why Corfu?'

‘Because it is as secure an anchorage as you will find in these waters, the main base of the Venetian fleet – and now in French hands. As you would know, of course,' he added significantly.

Nathan said nothing, but he wondered how many of his acquaintance knew of his nefarious activities in Venice.

‘And why would the French fleet remain in Alexandria,' Berry persisted, ‘once they have delivered the Army?'

Nathan frowned. ‘Is that why you were in the Bay of Coron?'

‘We thought it was well placed to intercept them if that was where they were headed.' He shrugged. ‘But you know the Admiral. He is mad to be at them. Could you
not see it in his face?' He considered a moment and then he glanced at the deck above his head. ‘I only hope it does not betray him to a greater madness.'

The wind had shifted westward and they made good time on the return to Alexandria, sighting Pompey's Pillar in clear weather soon after noon on the first day of August. It was Nathan's birthday – but there was no present for him. The harbour was full of shipping, and not a single one of them French.