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Authors: Beryl Kingston
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Admiral Cornwallis after six more days you must return to Plymouth for further orders. On the other hand, if you find him and he has no need of the Victory , which I am confident will turn out to be the case, you are to follow me with all speed. I have written letters to cover both eventualities.’
The news that the Amphion was to be Nelson’s flag ship provoked a mixed reaction aboard. Some of the crew agreed with their captain that it was an honour to be chosen, others complained that it would be ‘all spit an’ polish from now on’ and predicted that they would all be harried ‘from here to Sunday’. Nevertheless, the dog watch turned out in style to line the decks and cheer their Admiral as he was piped aboard, for whatever else they might think they were all agreed that he was a fine good man and the only one who could find them ol’ Frenchies and make ’em come out and fight.
To Marianne, his arrival was exactly what she needed. She’d been tetchy with impatience while they’d been searching the empty sea. It had all been such a waste of time for how could anyone find one little ship on all this water? It wasn’t humanly possible. Now they could get on with their journey and she would soon be in Gibraltar and could go ashore and find her Jem. She’d started to learn the language – or some of it at least – found her sea-legs, discovered a way to dress without attracting attention and now she wanted to get on with the real purpose of her voyage.
‘Soon be in Gibraltar, eh, Mr Galley,’ she said, when the great Admiral had gone to his quarters and they were all dispersing.
‘You got the Bay a’ Biscay to contend with first, my lubber,’ he said. ‘Don’ forget that.’
But she’d learnt a few sailor’s superstitions by now and knew that the way to deal with a potential hazard was to make a bargain with Fate. If she could get through this bay without being sick, she would find Jem. And in the event, the dreaded bay, was no more of a problem than the Channel had been and a great deal calmer. The sea was a deeper blue than she’d ever seen it and the waves were longer, rolling them onwards in smooth inexorable swathes of water, but there were no storms, the wind blew fair and the sun shone like a blessing. The clothes they’d washed in sea water the day before, were dried and ready to be worn by the time church was rigged on Sunday, and from then on it was all plain sailing and their voyage south continued without let, hindrance or incident . Johnny Galley said he’d be blowed if he’d ever know’d such a crossing and swore their new shipmate was a good omen, and their new shipmate grinned and agreed with him. The only thing that puzzled her was where all the other ships had got to and why they weren’t all sailing together the way they’d done when they left Portsmouth. Eventually, she asked him.
‘Gone a-searching with the Victory , my lubber,’ he said. ‘We shan’t see them for days yet. Don’ ’ee fret about ’em. They’ll catch up with us later.’
That wasn’t the answer she wanted. ‘How much later, Mr Galley?’
‘How should I know?’ Johnny Galley said. ‘You’ll have to ask the Admiral, you wants to know a thing like that. Get an’ eat yer figgy dowdy an’ don’t ask so many questions.’
He was looking quite cross, so that’s what she had to do. But her thoughts were spinning with frustration. What if they hadn’t caught up by the time the Amphion reached Gibraltar? She couldn’t put her planinto action if theirs was the only ship in the harbour. Oh come on do, she urged the empty seas. Show a sail for pity’s sake. But two days later they were travelling east, just out of sight of the Portuguese coast, still making good speed but still alone, and her shipmates said Gibraltar was just a few leagues away.
And then just as she’d given up hope, the look-out called, ‘Sail ahoy!’
There was instant activity on the quarter-deck. Lord Nelson and
The news that the Amphion was to be Nelson’s flag ship provoked a mixed reaction aboard. Some of the crew agreed with their captain that it was an honour to be chosen, others complained that it would be ‘all spit an’ polish from now on’ and predicted that they would all be harried ‘from here to Sunday’. Nevertheless, the dog watch turned out in style to line the decks and cheer their Admiral as he was piped aboard, for whatever else they might think they were all agreed that he was a fine good man and the only one who could find them ol’ Frenchies and make ’em come out and fight.
To Marianne, his arrival was exactly what she needed. She’d been tetchy with impatience while they’d been searching the empty sea. It had all been such a waste of time for how could anyone find one little ship on all this water? It wasn’t humanly possible. Now they could get on with their journey and she would soon be in Gibraltar and could go ashore and find her Jem. She’d started to learn the language – or some of it at least – found her sea-legs, discovered a way to dress without attracting attention and now she wanted to get on with the real purpose of her voyage.
‘Soon be in Gibraltar, eh, Mr Galley,’ she said, when the great Admiral had gone to his quarters and they were all dispersing.
‘You got the Bay a’ Biscay to contend with first, my lubber,’ he said. ‘Don’ forget that.’
But she’d learnt a few sailor’s superstitions by now and knew that the way to deal with a potential hazard was to make a bargain with Fate. If she could get through this bay without being sick, she would find Jem. And in the event, the dreaded bay, was no more of a problem than the Channel had been and a great deal calmer. The sea was a deeper blue than she’d ever seen it and the waves were longer, rolling them onwards in smooth inexorable swathes of water, but there were no storms, the wind blew fair and the sun shone like a blessing. The clothes they’d washed in sea water the day before, were dried and ready to be worn by the time church was rigged on Sunday, and from then on it was all plain sailing and their voyage south continued without let, hindrance or incident . Johnny Galley said he’d be blowed if he’d ever know’d such a crossing and swore their new shipmate was a good omen, and their new shipmate grinned and agreed with him. The only thing that puzzled her was where all the other ships had got to and why they weren’t all sailing together the way they’d done when they left Portsmouth. Eventually, she asked him.
‘Gone a-searching with the Victory , my lubber,’ he said. ‘We shan’t see them for days yet. Don’ ’ee fret about ’em. They’ll catch up with us later.’
That wasn’t the answer she wanted. ‘How much later, Mr Galley?’
‘How should I know?’ Johnny Galley said. ‘You’ll have to ask the Admiral, you wants to know a thing like that. Get an’ eat yer figgy dowdy an’ don’t ask so many questions.’
He was looking quite cross, so that’s what she had to do. But her thoughts were spinning with frustration. What if they hadn’t caught up by the time the Amphion reached Gibraltar? She couldn’t put her planinto action if theirs was the only ship in the harbour. Oh come on do, she urged the empty seas. Show a sail for pity’s sake. But two days later they were travelling east, just out of sight of the Portuguese coast, still making good speed but still alone, and her shipmates said Gibraltar was just a few leagues away.
And then just as she’d given up hope, the look-out called, ‘Sail ahoy!’
There was instant activity on the quarter-deck. Lord Nelson and
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