SHARPE’S TRAFALGAR. Bernard Cornwell. Sharpe’s Trafalgar: Richard Sharpe and the Battle of Trafalgar, October 21, 1805

“Follow her, quartermaster,” Chase said, then walked to the table behind the wheel where the ship’s log lay open. He dipped the pen in ink and made a new entry. “6:49 am. Turned east toward the enemy.” Chase put the pen down, then took a small notebook and a stub of pencil from his pocket. “Mister Collier!”

“Sir?” The midshipman looked pale.

“I will trouble you, Mister Collier, to take this notebook and pencil and to make a copy of any signals you see this day.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Collier said, taking the book and pencil from Chase.

Lieutenant Connors, the signal lieutenant, overheard the order from his place on the poop deck. He looked offended. He was an intelligent young man, quiet, red-haired and conscientious, and Chase, seeing his unhappiness, climbed to him. “I know that logging the signals is your responsibility, Tom,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want young Collier brooding. Keep him busy, eh? Let him think he’s doing something useful and he won’t worry so much about being killed.”

“Of course, sir,” Connors said. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good fellow,” Chase said, slapping Connors’s back, then he ran back down to the quarterdeck and stared at the Conqueror which had just completed her turn. “There goes Pellew now!” he cried. “See how well his fellows spread their wings?” The Conqueror’s studdingsails, projecting far outboard on either side of her huge square sails, fell to catch the small wind and were sheeted home.

“It’s a race now,” Chase said, “and the devil take the foremost. Lively now! Lively!” He was shouting at the men on the main yard who had been slow to release the Pucelle’s studdingsail yards, and doubtless Chase was thinking that Israel Pellew, the Cornishman commanding the Conqueror, would be watching him critically, but the yards were run out handily enough and, the eastward turn completed, the sails fell with a great slap and flap before the men on deck hauled them tight. The enemy was still hull down on the horizon and the wind scarce more than a whisper. “It’ll be a long haul,” Chase said ruefully, “a long, long haul. Are you sure there are no more coffee beans?” he asked his steward.

“Only the furry ones, sir.”

“Try them, try them.”

The British ensigns broke out at the sterns of the ships. Today, respecting Nelson’s wishes, every ship flew the white ensign. Chase had been ready to hoist the red up his mizzen, for the commander of the East Indian station had been a rear admiral of the red, but when he saw the white break at the Conqueror’s stern he ordered that flag brought up from the storeroom. Even Collingwood, Vice Admiral of the Blue, had hoisted Nelson’s beloved white at the mizzen of the huge three-decked Royal Sovereign. Union flags were hoisted to the fore topgallant mast and to the main topmast stay so that every ship flew three flags. Two masts might be shot away, but the British colors would still fly.

The marines were coiling down the lines of the grapnels that they had hung on the hammock nettings. The grapnels were triple-barbed hooks that could be hurled into an enemy’s rigging to drag her close for boarding. The wooden tubs on the deck, in which the sail sheets were usually coiled, were being carried down below. Some ships had jettisoned theirs, but Chase deemed that a waste of money. “Though by sundown, God willing, we’ll be the owners of enough French and Spanish chandlery to fit out a couple of warships.” He turned and took off his hat to greet Lady Grace who had appeared on deck with her husband. “I apologize, milady, that your cabin has been dismantled.”

“It seems Britain has a better use for the space today,” she said, amused.

“We shall restore your privacy as soon as we have dealt with those fellows,” Chase said, nodding toward the enemy fleet, “but once we are within gunshot, milady, I shall have to insist that you go below the water line.”

“I would prefer to offer my services to the surgeon,” Lady Grace said.

“The cockpit can come under fire, ma’am,” Chase said, “especially if the enemy depress their guns. I would be remiss if I did not insist you shelter in the hold. I shall have a place made ready for you.”

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