The Flood-Tide (33 page)

In April the
Isabella
was involved in an unsuccessful attempt to retake Dominica from the French, and in June she saw action again when Estaing took Grenada, and received enough damage to necessitate docking at Kingston to refit. Thomas was in Kingston when the news arrived that Spain had indeed declared war on Britain. As it was no more than he expected, it was eclipsed in his mind by the surprise of the news that Suckling's nephew, Nelson, had been made post after only two years as a lieutenant.

‘I suppose it's only what one expected while his uncle was Comptroller,' he muttered ungraciously to himself.

The new captain's new command, the
Hinchingbrooke,
was still at sea, and so he was given command of the shore batteries to defend the island against the expected invasion from Martinique. The idea that the whole of the island's defences were in the hands of such a young upstart annoyed Thomas, and he was extremely glad when the
Isabella
was warped out and he could get back to sea.

In September news came that there had been an attempted invasion of England by a joint French and Spanish force, which had only failed by good luck. The enemy fleet had delayed too long, allowing the Channel fleet which, taken unawares, had been stationed too far west, to scramble back onto station off Spithead. The enemy fleet had been forced to return to Brest, but the panic in England had been great and fierce criticism had been levelled at the Government for its lack of strategy.

Later that month the
Isabella,
along with the
Flame,
the
Daring
and the
Dover Castle,
was detached to the relief of New York, where General Clinton was hemmed in by Estaing and the French fleet. Thomas sailed with renewed hope of some decisive action whereby he might win glory and the chance of promotion, but as so often before in this war, he was disappointed. The French fleet caused disruption all along the coast but evaded direct action. Occasionally long-range shots were fired and minor damage done, but there was no confrontation, and in November the French ships stood out to sea. After pursuing them for some time, the British squadron realized they were heading home to France, and turned back to New York.

Thomas hoped they might then be sent back to the West Indies, for winter in the northern seas was bitter, but when he had revictualled he was ordered on blockade duty along the New Jersey and Delaware coast, the most monotonous and uncomfortable task he could have been given. He made the most of it by exercising his crew in the less frequently performed manoeuvres, and in checking and correcting the charts of his beat, which were at best inaccurate and at worst non-existent. Scurvy, the other great scourge of the navy, had made its appearance again, and one in five of the lower deck had it to some degree. Thomas shared the growing opinion that it was in great part due to the diet of salt meat, and during those dreary weeks of blockade, he enlivened the routine by landing small raiding parties here and there along the coast in search of fresh food. Fruit, of course, was impossible to come by, but they found potatoes and sometimes cabbage; they occasionally caught game; and Thomas, to the resentment of his men who hated experiment and change, tried the effect of fresh fish and sea kale in their diet.

The days began to lengthen again and the wind to lose its keenness, and one day the lookout's cry of 'Sail-ho! Sail on the port bow,' was followed by a cry of 'Deck there! It's a British ship, sir.' Thomas took his glass and watched as the ship came hull-up over the horizon. She hoisted her number, but Thomas did not need prompting to recognize the
Ariadne.
A moment later the signal midshipman reported, '
Ariadne,
28, sir. Captain Hannibal Harvey.'

‘Yes,' said Thomas, his eye still glued to the glass. She was still, to him, the most beautiful little ship in the world. A man always has a fondness for his first command, but
Ariadne
would have been beautiful to him if she had been his fiftieth.

‘
Ariadne
signalling, sir,' the midshipman reported.
‘Ariadne
to
Isabella,
have letters.'

‘Make: "Am sending boat",' Thomas said. 'Mr Harris, clear away the jolly-boat. And I shall have a note to take to Captain Harvey.’

He hastened below to write: 'Dear Captain Harvey, if you can be tempted out of your ship, will you dine with me?' and five minutes later the jolly-boat was dancing away across the grey, heaving sea. In due course it returned, bringing a bag of letters, from which Thomas sorted out his own before turning it over to his first lieutenant for distribution, and a note of acceptance from Captain Harvey. Thomas took his letters below and sent for his steward.

‘Captain Harvey is coming to dinner. What can you give us?'

‘Well, sir,' the steward said doubtfully, 'I don't think there's anything on board now but ration food.'

‘No potatoes left?'

‘No, sir. The last of 'em went rotten, sir. I think there might be a onion, sir, if the wardroom ain't 'ad it, sir.'

‘Well, do what you can. And I'll have that last bottle of claret I've been saving,' Thomas added on an impulse. Wine shared was better than wine drunk alone, and who knew when he would next have company?

‘Aye aye, sir,' said the steward, and left him to his letters. By the look of them they had been following him about for some time: the most recent, from Jemima, was dated November '79. He devoured it hungrily. Little Jack was taking his first steps, having discarded crawling almost as soon as he learnt it as being an unsuitable mode of progress for a lively young gentleman. Louisa was learning to ride, and Allen, bent on spoiling her, had insisted she had a proper habit, a miniature version of Jemima's. Harry and Lucy were thriving, Edward doing well at Christ Church and becoming a far more polished gentleman than Jemima would have supposed possible. Mary was dividing her attentions between John Anstey, Tom Loveday, and a new suitor, Patrick Hamilton, son of a rich clothier with a house on Lendal. James had given rise to a scandal by being discovered in the woods on Bachelor Hill with Maggie Henshaw, a well-grown village girl two years his senior. There had been uproar and counter-accusations, and it had been impossible to discover from either culprit how far things had gone; but the girl had not proved pregnant, and the clamour had died away.

Jemima's letters were always good to read, being full of chatter about the family and the animals and local matters, and it was only after he had finished it and laid it aside that he realized it made no mention of Flora. And the only letter in the batch from Flora was dated September, and was a masterpiece in saying nothing. He put the letters down and stared out of the stern windows, and was still doing so when six bells struck and the bosun's calls began to twitter, announcing the arrival of Captain Harvey. Thomas hurried up on deck to meet him.

He was the same vigorous, handsome, smiling man that Thomas remembered, and they greeted each other with a degree of cordiality far greater than their brief acquaintance warranted. The steward had done wonders with the dinner considering his lack of materials: stewed pork with onions, beefsteak pie, pea soup, and a currant duff. The two captains ate with an appetite and drank the claret with an enthusiasm enormously increased by each other's company: the life of a ship captain was necessarily a lonely one.

Through the meal they talked, and Harvey gave Thomas all the news that he had missed being on blockade duty.

‘Dalling's been making everyone's life hell in Jamaica,' he told Thomas. 'Parker can't stand him at any price. The Kingston ladies have to make sure if they invite Parker they don't invite the General. But he's ambitious, and pushing, and that's rare enough in this war. He mounted an attack on the mainland in January, up the St Juan River to try and secure Lake Nicaragua. The idea was to cross to the Pacific and thus cut off north from south. And who do you suppose was chosen to lead the expedition?'

‘The senior captain on the station, I suppose,' Thomas hazarded. Harvey shook his head.

‘Not a bit of it - it was that young spike Nelson! Made post but six months, and he's in charge of the whole landing party. That's a pushing young man, all right - a man after Dalling's heart, I should think.'

‘He certainly seems to be getting on,' Thomas said, trying not to sound sour.

‘Mad as a hatter, of course,' Harvey went on cheerfully. ‘He was ordered to convey the troops to the mouth of the river, and that was all. But he went straight on up the river with the men, assaulted the Spanish batteries and laid siege to the forts.'

‘It always seems to be that whenever there's action of any sort I am somewhere else,' Thomas mused. Harvey looked sympathetic.

‘It's the fortune of war. But I don't think you would have wanted to be a part of that expedition. Heat, mosquitoes, leeches the size of hen's eggs, poisonous snakes - not to mention the fever. The Dons are hardened to it, of course, but it went through our men like a hot knife through butter. If they hadn't been recalled from the siege I dare say not one of them would have survived. On the
Hinchingbrooke,
for instance, they buried a hundred and fifty of their two hundred Jacks.'

‘Not including Captain Nelson, I presume?’

Harvey grinned. 'He leads a charmed life. He's gone back to Port Royal, I understand, to await his new command - the
Janus,
when she comes in with Rodney.'

‘Admiral Rodney? Is he coming out, then?'

‘He's bringing out eight thousand men to reinforce the Caribbean. Stopped off to relieve Gibraltar on the way, in January, and should have arrived by now. There's another man with a charmed life. We ought to see some action with him.'

‘Well, that is good news,' Thomas said. They were lingering now over the last of the wine, Thomas having no port left to offer, and the talk drifted to home matters and more general topics. Thomas was discovering that his estimation of Harvey on that one meeting had been correct - that he was, indeed, a man with whom he could be friendly. He was lively, intelligent, and well read, and Thomas felt a lack of reserve with him that rather surprised him.

‘I read your
Gazette
letter, by the way, after the attack on Grenada, back in '79,' Harvey said suddenly. 'You have attracted some favourable notice in the Admiralty, judging from the gossip I heard.'

‘Really?' Thomas said, a little embarrassed. Harvey smiled.

‘The butchers' bill on St Juan will leave a few vacancies, sir, and I would be extremely surprised if there wasn't
a
sealed letter on its way to you.’

Thomas could only grunt noncommittally.
He
would be surprised, feeling isolated and forgotten as he did.

‘Your name, of course, is kept before their lordships in London,' Harvey went on. His tone was one of a person making polite conversation, but Thomas thought there was some significance in his eye. 'I had the inestimable pleasure of meeting your wife last autumn at Court,' he said. Thomas started, and then recovered himself and tried to sound neutral.

‘Did you? I hope she appeared well.'

‘She seemed in excellent health and spirits, I'm happy to be able to report to you. And she sat at dinner between Lord Aylesbury and Lord Sandwich, which I'm sure she did out of her devotion to duty, for they are no company for a young lady at the moment, having nothing to talk about but provisioning and the Northern blockade. But she was making herself charming to them, and I'm sure towards the end of dinner Lord Sandwich actually made a remark about a play.’

Thomas allowed a smile to relax the frown between his brows, but he was sure there was some message for him here, if he could only discover it. But they were interrupted in their conversation by a messenger from the first lieutenant, to say that the wind was freshening, and Harvey stood up and made his apologies.

‘I had better get back to my ship in that case, sir. Thank you for a most enjoyable dinner, and more than the dinner, for your inestimable company.'

‘Thank
you,
Harvey,' Thomas said. 'On blockade duty such a diversion is doubly welcome.’

He escorted Harvey to the side, and they shook hands. The fortunes of war could mean that they might never meet again. Harvey gave him a keen look, and then reached inside his jacket.

‘I forgot, sir - I meant to give you this. I'm sure you haven't seen a copy of the
Post
for some time. I thought it might interest you.'

‘Thank you,' said Thomas.

The freshening of the wind necessitated shortening sail, and so it was not until much later that Thomas had a chance to peruse the newspaper Harvey left him. It was not a recent copy - it was not to be expected - but it was interesting all the same to see what preoccupied the people at home. He did not at first notice the item in the paragraph dedicated to society news, and when he did it took him a moment or two to understand it.

‘At the Masquerade given at Carlisle House last Monday, the brilliant company was adorned by the presence of the dashing Mrs T.M. Her fashionable garb crowned with a headdress most wittily depicting a ship in full sail, Mrs T.M., wife of one of our gallant naval captains, led the dancing with the elegant Lord M. This correspondent understands that the couple were intending to leave the following day to go into Oxfordshire for the hunting. Mrs T.M. is known as a most excellent horsewoman, and it is expected that this year, as last, she will hunt Lord M.'s horses.’