The Emperor (58 page)

‘
And,' said Daniels, concluding his report to the captain,
who was still on the quarter-deck, directing repairs and
collating reports from his officers, 'there is one new soul on
board, sir.’

Haworth stared at him for a moment, so dazed with
weariness that he had difficulty in understanding. Then thelight dawned. 'Good God! My wife - you mean - ?'

‘
Your good lady, sir, has presented you with a daughter,
born just after the treasure-ship blew up. I've made her as
comfortable as I can on the orlop, but as soon as your
cabin's put to rights, I'll have her moved up there, if you
agree, sir. The wounded are rather noisy.'

‘
Yes - yes of course. A daughter you say? Good
heavens! I don't know what to say. They are well, both well?
I didn't even know - ‘

Daniels grinned. 'Mrs Haworth is a brave woman, if
you'll forgive me, sir. She was in labour before the battle
began, but didn't want you to know. Congratulations, sir.’

There was no opportunity for Haworth to go below and
see Mary - there was far too much to be done, from the
securing of the guns to the laying out of the dead, from the
telling off of prize crews to the ordering of the hands'
dinner. Haworth, pale with fatigue, did not leave the
quarter-deck all morning. He was dealing with the carpen
ter's request for a party to help plug the numerous shot-
holes when Dipton came across the deck to him, bearing a
_'
tray of hot coffee and ship's bread.

‘
Seeing as you haven't got time to set down, sir,' Dipton
said smoothly, 'I thought I'd bring you a bit o' something
out here. I took some breakfast down to Mrs Haworth, sir, but she didn't want nothing to eat, sir, only some coffee. I dessay she'll take something later, when we gets her up to
the cabin.'

‘
You've seen the baby?' Haworth said between thirsty
gulps. Dipton grinned.

‘
That I have, sir. A right little beauty, sir, excuse me.
Congratulations, sir.'

‘
Thank you, Dipton. You'll look after them for me, until
I have a moment? And tell Mrs Haworth - give her my
fondest regards.'

‘
Aye aye, sir,' Dipton said, and then added, 'That makes
two, sir.'

‘Two what?'

‘
Two babbles born during the battle, sir. T'other was on
the
Goliath.
That was right after the explosion, too, sir.
Scotch woman, from Edinburgh. One of the hands' wives.'

‘
How the
devil can
you know that?' Haworth asked in
astonishment. The way news got around a fleet was utterly
mysterious.

‘Common knowledge, sir,' Dipton said, and went away.

*

At eleven o'clock all hands were called, and by that time the
Africa
was almost back to normal, apart from her patched
sides and sails, and the row of corpses sewn into their ham
mocks along main deck under the bulwarks. Haworth had
no chaplain on board, and so he read the service for the
burial of the dead himself, and one by one they were tipped
over the side from under the flag into the sunlit water.

Then he spoke a few words to the men about the victory,
which had been glorious and complete. 'I don't doubt that anyone who fought at the battle of Aboukir Bay will be a
hero back home,' he said. 'England will be proud of you, my
lads. I know I am.'

‘
Three cheers for the Cap'n!' someone shouted, and they were roared out heartily. Haworth made no attempt to stop
them. They were cheering as much for themselves as for
him, he thought, for their victory, for the prize-money they
would receive, for danger met and survived. There was
cheering from every ship in the fleet. Around him, his
officers grinned at each other, even the dear old Anchovy,
his long face topped off with a vast white bandage wound
around his brow. Down in the waist, little Morpurgo,
standing with his division, threw his hat in the air in sheer
high spirits.

When the noise had died down a little, Haworth held up
his hand for silence. 'You will probably all have heard by now, that in the heat of the battle, my dear wife presented
me with a baby daughter. I'm glad to tell you that Mr
Daniels reports they are both doing well.' Another cheer. 'I
want you all to know that in honour of the courage and
discipline you displayed in the battle, I intend to name my
daughter after this ship. So when you drink your noon grog,
my lads, pray drink a toast to the health of Miss Africa
Haworth!’

The cheering this time went on for fully five minutes,
sailors, for all their toughness, being the most sentimental
creatures alive.

*

The news of the victory was received with enormous excitement in England, where the army had for a long time failed
to produce anything to rejoice over. It was soon renamed
The Battle of the Nile — few Englishmen had heard of
Aboukir Bay, and to them Egypt and the Nile were more or
less synonymous. The names of all the Nile captains became
as familiar as those of Robin Hood and his men: they were
the popular heroes of the hour.

Admiral Nelson sent his report back
to
England with
Fleet Captain Berry in the
Leander,
but on the journey
home it was captured by one of the two French ships which
had escaped from Aboukir Bay. Berry and the
Leander's
captain, Thompson, finally arrived back expecting to be
court-martialled for the loss of their ship, but they
discovered that nothing was too good for heroes of the Nile:
they both received knighthoods instead.

Nelson had received a peerage from King George, and a
dukedom from the grateful King of the Two Sicilies.

‘
And Captain Haworth has received a baby daughter,'
Lucy said to Weston, for it was as popular a piece of news as
anything that had happened in the battle. 'I wonder which
of them values his reward more?’

They were lying on the bed of a room in an inn in
Finchley, eating cherries. Weston had driven them out of
Town in a hired curricle, to get away from the heat, and
they had taken a bedchamber and private parlour under the
name of Mr and Mrs Illingworth. They took reasonable
precautions to avoid gossip, never staying at the same inn
twice, nor choosing one where they were likely to be recog
nized. With London in its state of August emptiness, they
had as yet escaped detection. There was no-one but the
Aylesbury servants to wonder about Weston's frequent and
prolonged visits to Upper Grosvenor Street, or Lucy's
heavily-veiled visits to Weston's lodgings in Brook Street.

‘
Is it really such an important victory, though?' Lucy
asked idly. They were both naked in the heat, and propped
on one elbow, she had been laying out her cherry stones in a
pattern across Weston's smooth white chest with the minute
attention of a child.

‘
I think so,' he said. With his hands folded under his head
he could squint down the length of his body and watch what
she was doing. 'It puts a stop to the French plan to take India, and gives us virtual control of the Mediterranean.
And it demonstrates that even a land campaign is not safe from the long arm of the navy. I think it may be the turning-
point of the war. It may even encourage other nations to
join us against the French.'

‘If the war ends, we will have peace, and what will poor Weston do then, poor thing?' Lucy asked, eating another cherry and attempting to balance the stone on one of his nipples.

‘
Ah yes, what?' he said. 'Peace could be devastating to a
friendless young officer like me. A lieutenant's half pay is
not enough to live on.'

‘
Not in the style you like to enjoy,' Lucy said. 'But I'd
hardly call you friendless. Admiral Scorton says that Lord St Vincent thinks the world of you.'

‘If the war ends, I think I might try politics,' he mused. 'It seems to me a Member of Parliament leads a very pleasant life. Or the law — even more money, for even less work.'

‘It's impossible to imagine peace. We've been at war so long now, it's just the way the world is.’

He raised himself on one elbow, scattering stones. 'It's
the way you are!' he said. 'You are so very childlike, my
love. Whatever is happening around you at the moment,
you think of as a permanency. I warrant you can't remember
a time before you knew me.'

‘No,' she said, frowning in thought, 'I can't. How did you know?'

‘
I love you. I know everything about you,' he laughed,
and rolled her over to kiss her.

‘Ouch! Cherry stones!' she exclaimed through his kisses.

‘
Your own fault,' he said, pressing her back into the
pillows. There was a long and satisfactory silence, after
which, holding him in her arms, she said, ‘Do you love me?'

‘Of course. You know I do.’

She sighed. 'I was married so young. I never really knew
— ' She broke off thoughtfully, and then resumed, 'But
perhaps if you and I had been married we should not have felt like this about each other.’

Weston smiled. 'I think you may just have discovered the
secret of life. Listen, my love, would you like to get away
from London for a while? I want to have a few weeks with
you without interruption.'

‘Can we manage it?' Lucy asked.

‘Your husband will be away from London until October,
won't he? I know of a cottage we could rent in a little village
in Kent. Very remote — rather primitive, perhaps, but
adequate for a few weeks of rural bliss. We could take your
maid, if you think she can be trusted, and my man. All we
have to do is to go.’

Lucy was silent for a long time, and eventually Weston
freed himself from her arms to sit up and look at her.
'My love? Does the idea not appeal to you?’

Well, why not?' she said at last, as if in conclusion to an
argument. 'Yes, I think it would be delightful. But I must
have Mimosa, if we are going for a long time, and Parslow
to look after her. We can hire a horse for you. Parslow's
devoted to me, and Docwra scolds a great deal, but she'll do
anything I tell her.'

‘
We'll do it, then,' he said, stroking her hair lovingly. 'I
shall have you all to myself at last.'

‘You have me pretty much to yourself now,' she pointed
out practically, and then added with a small frown, 'He
doesn't care, you know. Chetwyn — he doesn't care.'

‘
I wouldn't go so far as to say that,' said Weston, lying
down again.

*

After the battle, Nelson's squadron was divided, some sent
to Gibraltar, some to Naples with the
Vanguard,
and three
ships of the line, including the
Africa,
remaining to guard the Egyptian coast, to prevent the stranded French army
from receiving supplies or reinforcements.

It was a pleasant assignment — fine weather, calm seas, fresh water and food from the shore, and no immediate
prospect of danger, with all the French fleets bottled up in
harbours by the English blockade. The three captains had
nothing worse to worry about than how to keep their crews
from growing bored.

After the strain and worry of the last few months,
Haworth was delighted to have the leisure to sit with his
wife as she lay propped up in bed in the sleeping-cabin. The
clean, mild air poured in through the open windows, the
sunlight glinted off the wake, and there was the soothing sound of the water chuckling under the keel. Haworth sat
with Mary's hand in his and made endless plans for Africa's
future.

‘
I think you might have asked me before you named the
poor child after your ship,' Mary teased him gently.

‘
Oh dear! I'm sorry, my love. I suppose I got rather
carried away by rhetoric. But don't you think it a pretty name?'

‘
Oh, certainly, and very romantic, too. She is bound, with
a name like that, to have adventures, just like one of Mrs
Radcliffe's heroines. But suppose, my dearest, that she
grows up fat and plain and dull?’