A Call to Arms by William C. Hammond Page B

sailing first, Father?” Will asked. “I’ve heard Gibraltar. Is that true?”
    â€œI believe so, Will, although I won’t know until I open my orders at sea. Each ship is sailing independently to the Mediterranean rather than as a squadron, as I had expected. Presumably we’ll join up at the Royal Navy base at Gibraltar. While I’m there, I intend to visit your uncle Jeremy. And who knows?” he added with an arch look at his wife. “Perhaps I’ll find Lord Nelson at Gibraltar as well. He is Jeremy’s commanding officer.”
    â€œHoratio is in the Mediterranean?” Katherine asked.
    â€œIn grand style,” her husband informed her. “He has been appointed commander-in-chief of British forces there.”
    Katherine smiled. “Most impressive. And you will see him?”
    â€œThat is my devout hope, Katherine. It will depend on circumstances, of course.” In years past, an encounter with Vice Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson would not have been Richard’s devout hope. But he had finally come to terms with his wife’s former betrothal to the man. Left unstated this evening—because it was being discussed ad nauseam in nearly every city, town, and village in the English-speaking world—was Nelson’s extramarital love affair with Lady Emma Hamilton, the young and vibrant wife of elderly British diplomat Sir William Hamilton. Sir William had been ambassador to the kingdom of Naples in ’01 duringthe French invasion and the subsequent evacuation by sea of the court of King Ferdinand VI and key British personnel, including the ambassador and his wife. It was aboard Nelson’s ship Agamemnon that the seed of love between Horatio and Emma, already well rooted, had burst into full blossom.
    But while the British press excoriated Nelson for abandoning his wife, Fanny, and for siring a daughter out of wedlock with Lady Hamilton, the British public remained steadfastly loyal to England’s foremost naval hero. Nelson’s popularity had ballooned after he sailed in and defeated a combined Norwegian and Danish fleet in the Battle of Copenhagen, later claiming he had not seen the signal from his squadron’s flagship to withdraw. When it was rumored that Nelson had not seen Admiral Hyde Parker’s signal to withdraw because he was holding the spyglass to his blind eye, his fame soared to dizzying heights. Jokes were bandied about—in the press and elsewhere—that the sixty-two-year-old admiral had no desire to withdraw because the old goat had recently married an eighteen-year-old English girl.
    â€œIf you do have the good fortune to meet up with Horatio,” Katherine said sternly, “you will send him my warmest personal regards.”
    â€œOf course, my dear. I have been well trained.”
    I N EARLY J ULY Constitution was moved from her quay on the Charles River to May’s Wharf in Boston for the final stages of her fitting out and provisioning. On August 8 the pride of New England cast loose her moorings to land and was towed to a temporary anchorage in the deep waters off the northern tip of Long Island.
    At six bells in the morning watch on Saturday, August 13, Capt. Edward Preble, having deemed the northwesterly breeze sufficient for steerage way and fair for sailing out, ordered his first lieutenant to take her to sea.
    Charles Gordon touched his hat. “Aye, aye, Captain!” He brought a speaking trumpet to his mouth. “All hands! Stations for weighing anchor! Up anchor! Man the bars!” Shrill boatswain’s whistles relayed his orders. “Sailors aloft! Lay out and loose! Man topsail sheets and halyards! Hands to braces! Stand by . . . Stand by . . . Let fall!” Sailors leapt to their posts, the laggards among them earning a whack on the back from Boatswain John Cannon’s rattan cane.
    Three great billows of topsails fell like white curtains from their yards, and topgallants rose