Master & Commander by Patrick O’Brian

The day after that, still from his melancholy height, full of guilt at his idleness and the intense, ordered busyness below, particularly about the Caesar, he saw the San Antonio,

a French seventy-four that had been delayed, come in from Cadiz and anchor among her friends at Algeciras.

The next day there was great activity on the far side of the bay – boats plying to and fro among the twelve ships of the combined fleet, new sails bending, supplies coming aboard, hoist after hoist of signals aboard the flagships; and all this activity was reproduced in Gibraltar, with even greater zeal. There was no hope for the Pompée, but the Audacious was almost entirely ready, while the Venerable, the Spencer and, of course, the Superb, were in fighting trim, and the Caesar was so near the final stages of her refitting that it was just possible she might be fit for sea in twenty-four hours.

During the night a hint of a Levanter began to breathe from the east: this was the wind the Spaniards were praying for, the wind that would carry them straight out of the Gut, once they had weathered Cabrita Point, and waft them up to Cadiz. At noon the first of their three-deckers loosed her foretopsail and began to move out of the crowded road; then the others followed her. They were weighing and coming out at intervals of ten minutes or a quarter of an hour to their rendezvous off Cabrita Point. The Caesar was still tied up alongside the mole, taking in her powder and shot, with officers, men, civilians and garrison soldiers working with silent concentrated earnestness.

At length the whole of the combined fleet was under way:

even their jury-rigged capture, the Hannibal, towed by the French frigate Indienne, was creeping out to the point. And now the shrill squealing fife and fiddle broke out aboard the Caesar as her people manned the capstan bars and began to warp her out of the mole, taut, trim and ready for war. A thundering cheer ran all along the crowded shore, from the batteries, walls and hillside black with spectators; and when it died away there was the garrison band playing Come cheer up my lads, ’tis to glory we steer as loud as ever they could go, while the Caesar’s marines answered with Britons strike home. Through the cacophony the fife could still be heard:

it was most poignantly moving.

As the Caesar passed under the stern of the Audacious she hoisted Sir James’s flag once more and immediately afterwards heaved out the signal weigh and prepare for battle. The execution of this was perhaps the most beautiful naval manoeuvre Jack had ever seen: they had all been waiting for the signal, they were all waiting and ready with their cables up and down; and in an unbelievably short space of time the anchors were catted and the masts and yards broke out in tall white pyramids of sail as the squadron, five ships of the line, two frigates, a sloop and a brig, moved out of the lee of the Rock and formed in line ahead on the larboard tack.

Jack pushed his way out of the tight-packed crowd on the mile-head, and he was half-way to the hospital, meaning to persuade Stephen to mount the Rock with him, when he saw his friend running swiftly through the deserted streets.

‘Has she got out of the mole?’ cried Stephen, at a considerable distance. ‘Has the battle begun?’ Reassured, he said, ‘I would not have missed it for a hundred pounds: that damned fellow in ,Ward B and his untimely fancies -a fine time to cut one’s throat, good lack a-day.’

‘There’s no hurry – no one will touch a gun for hours,’ said Jack. ‘But 1 am sorry you did not see the Caecar warping out: it was a glorious sight. Come up the hill with me, and you will have a perfect view of both squadrons. Do come. I will call in at the house and pick up a couple of telescopes; and a cloak – it grows cold at night.’

‘Very well,’ said Stephen, after a moment’s thought. ‘I can leave a note. And we will fill our pockets with ham: then we shall have none of your wry looks and short answers.’

‘There they lay,’ said Jack, pausing for breath again. ‘Still on the larboard tack.’

‘I see them perfectly well,’ said Stephen, a hundred yards ahead and climbing fast. ‘Pray do not stop so often. Come on.’

‘Oh Lord, oh Lord,’ said Jack at last, sinking under his familiar rock. ‘How quick you go.

Well, there they are.’

‘Aye, aye, there they are: a noble spectacle, indeed. But why are they standing over towards Africa? And why only courses and topsails, with this light breeze? That one is even backing her maintopsail.’

‘She’s the Superb; she does so to keep her station and not over-run the Admiral, for she is a superb sailer, you know, the best in the fleet. Did you hear that?’

‘Yes.’

‘It was rather clever, I thought witty.’

‘Why do they not make sail and bear up?’

‘Oh, there is no question of a head-on encounter – probably no action at all by daylight. It would be downright madness to attack their line of battle at this time. The Admiral wants the enemy to get out of the bay and into the Gut, so there will be no doubling back and so that he wilt have sea-room to make a dash at them: once they get well into the offing I dare say he will try to cut off their rear if this wind holds; and it looks like a true three-day Levanter. Look, there the Hannibal cannot weather the point. Do you see? She will be on shore directly. The frigate is making sad work of it. They are towing her head round.

Handsomely does it – there we are – she fills – set the jib, man – just so. She is going back.’

They sat watching in silence, and all around them they could hear other groups, scattered all over the surface of the Rock – remarks about the strengthening of the wind, the probable strategy to be observed, the exact broadside weight of metal on either side, the high standard of French gunnery, the currents to be met with off Cape Trafalgar.

With a good deal of backing and filling, the combined fleet, now nine ships of the line and three frigates, had formed their line of battle, with the two great Spanish first-rates in the rear, and now they bore away due westwards before the freshening breeze.

A little before this the British squadron had worn together by signal, and now they were on the starboard tack, under easy sail. Jack’s telescope was firmly on the flagship, and as soon as he saw the hoist running up he murmured, ‘Here we go.’

The signal appeared: at once the press of canvas almost doubled, and within a few minutes the squadron was racing away after the French and the Spaniards, dwindling in his view – growing smaller every moment as he watched.

‘Oh God, how I wish I were with them,’ said Jack, with a groan of something like despair.

And some ten minutes later, ‘Look, there’s Superb going ahead – the Admiral must have hailed her.’ The Superb’s topgallant studdingsails appeare4 as though by magic, port and starboard. ‘How she flies,’ said Jack, lowering his glass and wiping it: but the dimness was-neither his tears nor any dirt on the glass – it was the fading of the day. Down below it had already gone; a tawny late evening filled the town, and lights were breaking out all over it. Presently lanterns could be seen creeping up the Rock to the high points from which perhaps the battle might be seen; and over the water Algeciras began to twinkle, a low-lying curve of lights.

‘What do you say to some of that ham?’ said Jack.

Stephen said he thought ham might prove a valuable preservative against the falling damps; and when they had been eating for some time in the darkness, with their pocket-handkerchiefs spread upon their knees, he suddenly observed, ‘They tell me I am to be tried for the loss of the Sophie.’

Jack had not thought of the court-martial since early that morning, when it became certain that the combined fleet was coming out: now it came back to him with an extraordinarily unpleasant shock, quite closing his stomach. However, he only replied,

‘Who told you that? The physical gentlemen at the hospital, I suppose?’

‘Yes.’

‘Theoretically they are right, of course. The thing is officially called the trial of the captain, officers and ship’s company; and they formally ask the officers if they have any complaints to make against the captain, and the captain whether he has any to make against the officers; but obviously in this it is only my conduct that is in question. You have nothing to worry about, I do assure you, upon my word and honour. Nothing at all.’

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