The Midshipman Prince (36 page)

      
“Yes, sir. I am supposed to escort you.”

      
Hanover arrived in Captain Saumarez’s cabin and saw that he was still seated at his desk, Hood’s letter open in front of him.

      
“Mr. Hanover, I’ll trouble you for your pocket watch, if you please.”

      
“My watch, sir?” He asked as he fumbled in his waistcoat.

      
“Yes, your watch. Right now it is the single most valuable object we have on this ship.”

* * *

      
It was a repeat of the night before, “Dupe’s Day” the men called it, when they fooled the French fleet into giving up Frigate Bay. Captain Saumarez was again pacing back and forth on the quarterdeck; only this time he had eyes only for Hanover’s watch. Even more puzzling, his behavior had become as strange as the Admiral’s.

      
First, he had taken possession of Hanover’s pocket watch; then, not an hour ago, he sent a boat crew out to hang a lantern on the ship’s anchor buoy; then he ordered the ship to a silent general quarters—which Hanover had never seen before—then he stationed two men with axes near the hawse-hole where the anchor cable left the ship.

      
He finally walked over to the starboard side of the quarterdeck, looked once more at Hanover’s pocket watch, dropped his arm and hissed: “Now, Mr. Calvin, but be quiet about it.”

      
Hanover could hear the muffled sound of axes cutting through thick hemp rope, followed by the word being passed from up forward: “Anchor’s cut away, sir.”

      
Saumarez then hissed a series of commands to get the foretopsail dropped and sheeted home.

      
The
Tisiphone
and every other ship in the British fleet simultaneously began to move, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed until they were soon well clear of St. Kitts.

      
De Grasse arose the following morning before first light and came on deck. He looked first at the set of his ship’s sails, then to the sky to see if he could get any hint of the weather for the day, then he peered into the darkness for the trapped British ships.

      
As the light eventually increased, he realized the anchorage was empty.

* * *

      
The
Formidable
and her squadron arrived in Barbados on February 19th. On board was Admiral George Brydges Rodney, considered the best fighting admiral in the Royal Navy.

      
Rodney came from an ancient family. Sir Richard Rodeney fought with Richard the Lion-Heart and distinguished himself at the Battle of Acre. For five hundred years, the family estates at Stoke Rodeney in Somersetshire had been handed down in unbroken succession. His godfather was none other than King George I.

      
This kind of family background can breed men of dissipation as easily as it can breed men of steel; and, to look at Rodney, you would think the former had occurred. He was a tall, slim, almost frail looking man with the thin nose, sharp chin and piercing eyes of an aristocrat. He moved with graceful ease in the highest social circles; and, in the days of fancy lace for men, Rodney was among the most elegant. He was always perfectly dressed, fastidious, and loved the courtly comment and courteous phrase. In short, by all superficial accounts, he was a “dandy.”

      
If you truly believed that of him, however, you did so at your peril. When the time came for sunlight to flash on cold steel, the supercilious dandy disappeared. Underneath was a tough, highly skilled warrior that would have done his ancestor, Sir Richard, proud.

      
At the time of the Battle of the Capes, Admiral Rodney was 62 years old and in comfortable retirement. England had been rocked by news of Cornwallis’ defeat at Yorktown. That it, in effect, had been caused by a British defeat at sea made it even worse. People might not have known exactly why the battle was lost, but they did know that it wouldn’t have happened if Rodney had been there.

      
De Grasse was loose in the West Indies; and, with no one to stop him; England could lose every one of its possessions there. Finally, at the direct request of the king, the old warhorse dug out his sword, dusted off his uniform, and went off in search of De Grasse.

      
After a lightning quick transit of the Atlantic (a mere five weeks), Rodney looked for Hood at Barbados. Failing there, he set off for St. Kitts and eventually found him in Antigua. One look at Hood’s ships, however, and Rodney knew they would not be taking on De Grasse any time soon. He took his fleet, now numbering 36 ships, off to the careenage at St. Lucia for repairs.

      
Rodney knew how to squeeze the last drop of work out of a dockyard; but, even so, his fleet was laid up from February through March in patching and mending. Some ships needed repairs. Others needed complete restoration; and, had they been back in England, a few would have simply been sold to a wreaking company. Rodney did not have that luxury, and each ship was run through the yard.

* * *

      
Captain Saumarez was dressed in his finest uniform, as he stood on the deck of the
Formidable
waiting to meet with the Admiral. He had no idea why he was being summoned; he couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong; but he was nervous nonetheless.

      
Eventually a young lieutenant came along to escort him to Rodney’s quarters. They were the most spacious he had ever seen, but then again the
Formidable
was the largest ship he had ever been on. Rodney was looking out the stern windows of his cabin when Saumarez arrived.

      
“Ah, there you are, captain,” Rodney began. He shook hands and invited him to sit down. Saumarez took a seat in front of the admiral’s huge oak desk.

      
“A glass of port, perhaps, captain? It’s an exceptionally good year.”

      
“No, sir, thank you. I am fine.”

      
“I won’t keep you long but I wanted to give you these two packets. The first is routine business for your ship including, by the way, a list of prisoners held. We just exchanged lists with the frogs this morning.

      
“The second is more important. It’s a package of dispatches.” He shoved a sealed leather pouch across the table toward him. “They need to get back to the Admiralty as soon as possible. I am afraid I am going to have to dispatch you and the
Tisiphone
to get them there.

      
As the implications of his statement sank home, Saumarez looked at the package as if the Admiral had offered him a rat that had just died of the plague. He was only twenty-five years old. He was a good captain, a fighting captain; and now, with the fleet about to fight for its very life, he was not going to be allowed to stay. His heart sank.

      
“Sir?” His face had gone pale and he was fighting to keep a tremor out of his voice. “Sir, is there not some other ship that could possibly do this?”

      
“I am afraid there isn’t, captain. We had no idea your ship would be joining us until you arrived. All the other ships have been assigned places and duties in the line of battle. Yours is the only one we can cut loose without changing all that around.”

      
Rodney saw the disappointment in his eyes. “I am sorry, Saumarez. I know you’re a good captain and I’d love to have you around during the coming fight. In a lot of ways you remind me of me when I was your age. But, I can’t. These dispatches really must go through.

      
“If it’s any consolation, you should know that I am not the only admiral who knows of your talents. Your day will come, son. Trust me. Your day will come.”

      
Saumarez was disconsolate as he reached the gangway to go back to his ship. He couldn’t leave right away, however, because another gig was pulling up to the
Formidable
.
 

      
“Ahoy the boat,” went the challenge.

      
“
Russell
,” came the reply. It meant that the captain of the
Russell
was arriving and proper honors should be observed.

      
Saumarez had known the
Russell’s
captain, Tom MacArthur, since they were midshipmen together aboard the old
Seahorse
. He was strong as an ox, smart as a whip and had a wicked sense of humor that bordered on the perverse. As he climbed onboard ship, however, he could see that MacArthur looked as bad as Saumarez felt.

      
“Jim,” MacArthur exclaimed, pumping his hand with an oversized paw. “I knew the
Tisiphone
had joined us, but what are you doing here? Cultivating the admiral?”

      
“Well, I
was
here. I am being sent back to England with some damn dispatches.”

      
“Really? That’s terrific!”

      
“I am glad you find it entertaining. I do not.”

      
“No, I am serious.” Mac’s voice lowered to avoid anyone else from hearing what he was about to say.

      
“Look, Jim, I’ve been having some... I don’t know what you’d call it... some ‘spells’ lately. The quack surgeon on board my ship thinks it’s my heart; and, well, I think he might be right. He says the only thing I can do is get back to London and see some specialists. That’s why I am here. I am going to ask Rodney for leave to go back.”

      
“My Lord, Tom, I am really sorry to hear that.”

      
“Yes, well, I am sure they’ll have me fixed up in no time. But, meanwhile, don’t go back to your ship just yet, all right?”

      
It was the longest 15 minutes in Saumarez’s memory. Finally, that same young lieutenant came by to escort him again to see the Admiral.

      
“Saumarez, I understand you’ve heard about Captain MacArthur’s medical condition?”

      
“Yes, sir.”

      
“Well enough. If you would be so kind as to give over the dispatch case to Captain MacArthur, I will have my clerk cut some new orders. I am placing you as captain of the
Russell
and MacArthur as captain of the
Tisiphone
.”

      
Rodney gave a short smile. “I assume that will meet with your approval?”

      
Saumarez was at a loss for words. In the span of seconds, he had gone from commanding a frigate to commanding a 74-gun ship of the line. “Yes, sir. I... I don’t know what to...”

      
“Just fight your ship well, Saumarez. That’s all the thanks I need.”

      
“Now, both of you get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

* * *

      
Captain Saumarez was still dressed in his finest uniform and waiting near the gangway when he summoned Susan Whitney and Midshipman Hanover on deck.
 

      
“Ah, there you are. I suppose you’ve both heard the news about my getting command of the
Russell
. I have to go over there now for a preliminary visit, then go see the admiral again; but, before I go, I wanted to speak to you.” As he said this, he was pulling them aside and out of hearing range of the other men standing about.

      
“I am afraid I have some good news and some bad. In this morning’s dispatch, I received a list of the British officers and men who are being held by the French. The two sides exchanged lists just this morning. I know you’re worried about your friends Lieutenant Smith and Mr. Walker. I wanted to tell you that they are both still alive and well, but they are being held aboard the
Diadem
. The
Badger
was captured 10 days ago.”

      
Hanover looked at Saumarez with relief. Susan looked stricken.

      
“Thank you, sir,” Hanover finally replied. “It’s good of you to inform us.”

      
“Yes, well, I must be going.”