The Private Misadventures of Nell Nobody by Jennifer Newbold

Author:Jennifer Newbold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Action & Adventure
Publisher: Jennifer Newbold
Published: 2022-06-23T18:29:17+00:00

I don’t know how long I sit in the storeroom before I hear the key turn in the lock. I jump up as bosun’s mate opens the door.

‘Seems they might ‘ave forgot ye, lad,’ he says, ‘but I guess the captain remembered afore too long. He said he didn’t mean for ye to stay down here all night.’

I am not allowed to pass through the ship unaccompanied, but they might have put me in shackles, and I’m grateful that they did not.

It is early evening, and as we climb up out of the orlop, the shadows indicate that the sun is skimming the horizon. The mate leads me up to the fo’c’s’le and along the gangway to the quarterdeck. I can see feverish activity on all the British ships in port, while Agamemnon hovers anxiously in the bay.

The sentry allows us entry and as the mate opens the door to the captain’s cabin he says, ‘Sir, ‘ere’s your prisoner, safe and sound.’ The way he says ‘prisoner’ makes it sound like a jest.

Captain Nelson is standing at the stern lights, and he turns to thank the bosun’s mate. ‘Apologies, Mr Buckley,’ he says, as the mate leaves, ‘I hadn’t intended to leave you in the storeroom, but I have been distracted.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘I hope it wasn’t too disagreeable.’

It was. But there is absolutely no point in saying so. I know why he made the decision.

‘What happened, sir? Did the French leave off the chase…?’

‘No, they did not. Providence sent us a wind just as they were coming into range. We were expecting they would test their range at any moment when the wind returned. We were able to escape through the shallows, where they could not follow.’

He is teetering between exhaustion and indignation. ‘The British fleet is putting to sea, but the villains have fled; as soon as they realised that our ships were mobilised, they ran. Blackguards—they are neither seamen nor officers!’ he says with disgust.

‘We are pursuing them this time, and God grant that we catch them. Cowards! Their entire fleet will chase a single ship, but they run from a fair fight!’

He refuses to eat or rest until he sees the entire British fleet set sail in hot pursuit. It is in the early hours of the middle watch, and except for the men on deck, the ship is quiet. I am not sleeping, because Captain Nelson is not.

He comes in from the quarterdeck and says, ‘Come with me, Mr Buckley.’ He leads me up to the poop and says quietly, ‘Look at them. As fine a fleet as ever graced the sea.’

Twenty-three ships of the line, with attendant frigates, spread out in the moonlight. HMS Britannia, Victory, and Princess Royal, bearing the admirals’ flags, proudly shepherd the two-decked seventy-fours. It is a majestic sight, astonishingly moving. British colours fly boldly above every vessel. I am speechless.

‘Impressive, is it not?’ the captain says softly.

‘It’s breath-taking,’ I murmur. ‘No wonder the French ran.’

Little Agamemnon is amongst the first and foremost.

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